


This Thing I Did Last Summer

by kittymoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Animagus, F/M, Griffindor Regulus Black, Little Red Riding Hood Jokes, Lots Of Snape, Lots of Sex, M/M, MWPP, Marauders' Era, No-one Gets Eaten By A Werewolf, Not At The Same Time Though, Pranks, Sirius and Snape are BFFs, Slytherin Sirius AU, Slytherin Sirius Black, The Prank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymoon/pseuds/kittymoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having spent ages trying to perfect his (illegal) Animagus transformation, Sirius Black is particularly annoyed to discover that several members of Griffindor House beat him to it. And in a cooler way. With a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Thing I Did Last Summer

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Sirius is sorted into Slytherin, for vague reasons. I'm using the AU tag as excuse for any canon errors, but please point out any awful plot holes, typos, etc.
> 
> Slight warnings for: Sirius being a bit stalkery, and for a small amount of physical fighting between Sirius and Remus (Remus is a bit of a dick and maybe has a slight internalised homophobia problem - he does say some homophobic things at one point). Homophobic language (used by Sirius, mostly joking, while coming to terms with his own sexuality). One sex scene where Remus says no (for werewolf reasons), but clearly and enthusiastically consents soon after. Message me if you have any questions about any of that.
> 
> Remus/OFC is very very slight. Underage tag is for sexual acts between two 16/17 year olds.

 

 

Sirius presses his body against the door; rubs his cheek against it, tries to bite at the wood. It feels good, so fucking good, even if he can still hear his mother shrieking away downstairs. He cuddles up to his bedroom door, thinks maybe he's missing lunchtime, or dinner, something important enough for all the noise she's making.

He's panting for breath, literally, and even that feels right, and good.

The vibrations of heavy footsteps rattle the floorboards nearby, Sirius can feel them through his arse, and then feels each knock on the door rattle down through his skeleton. He curls his fingers into the door, curling in enough to spike splinters of wood and aging varnish down under his nails. 

"You know it'll fall off if you keep on like that," Regulus calls, his voice all sing-y.

Sirius presses his lips to the crack at the edge of the door that he knows Regulus is speaking into. He breathes dust and wood and tastes Regulus, who tastes like the smell of roast chicken, so it's probably dinner Sirius is missing. 

"It'll drop right off, and then what will you play with?" Regulus says. 

"Yours," Sirius says. He's laughing, all heavy and still breathless. He realises all of a sudden that he's only breathing through his mouth, but he can taste every smell. 

"You're disgusting," Regulus says, more quietly. Sirius looks down. No he isn't disgusting; he may not have robes on, or socks, but he's wearing trousers, and his flies are still done up. His has better things to do than that.

Actually, that's not completely true right now. He rubs up to the door again. Mmm. He doesn't know why everything should feel so good. 

"Regulus," he says softly, "I can't come to dinner." 

"Why do you hate me this summer?" Regulus asks, sulky and earnest.

 _I don't_ , Sirius thinks; no, he knows. Right now, he loves his brother, with a passion like nothing else. He jerks his body against the door, making it rattle on the hinges. He wants to twine himself around Regulus, lick his cheek, fall asleep on him. Sirius finds himself nuzzling at the edge of the door.

"I'm nearly seventeen," Sirius says finally, when he's forced himself to pull away. His voice doesn't quite sound like his own. "So it's different, now."

"Oh, now you're too grown up to play with me?"

Sirius can picture Regulus, sitting with his back to Sirius' bedroom door, pouting. It inspires quite an incredible rush of affection for his little brother, even when Sirius can remember that normally Regulus' pouty small-boy face makes him want to smack him in the chops.

"When you're nearly seventeen," Sirius says, "I'll show you." He means that. "Now, go away."

Regulus huffs, loudly. "Sirius," he says, sing-song and whiny again, but Sirius is already crawling away across his bedroom floor, on hands and knees.

The floor is covered in ripped up sheets and papers. Most of the textbooks Sirius has been obsessing over all summer are torn and ruined, though they don't matter anymore.

 _I did it_ , he thinks, as he drags himself up onto his bed, _I finally did it_. When your best friend is some crazy secretive genius, then you need to distinguish yourself in other ways.

Sirius is weak enough that dragging himself up onto the bed takes some effort, but once he's there it's easy enough to reach under his pillow, pull out the magazine he's been keeping there for weeks. _I am fucking amazing_ , he thinks 

Sirius has wanted this since he was a child, since he got his first copy of this magazine, well, comic, at the age of nine.

_The Amazing Adventures of Zacharias Hawk, Animagus Auror._

Really, Sirius' inappropriate crush on Hawk has barely faltered over the years, even after puberty. 

"Sirius!" Regulus yells. "Mum says if you don't come to dinner then you can just starve for all she cares!"

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius is on edge for the first month of his sixth year at Hogwarts. 

When it's too much he goes exploring in the Forbidden Forest. He nearly gets attacked and eaten plenty of times, but he needs that excitement, and when that's not enough, ends up poisoning half of Gryffindor House and nearly getting expelled for it. By the time the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match rolls around, Sirius is desperate to start whacking Bludgers at people's heads.

"You nearly killed my best friend," James Potter points out to him as they stand on the pitch waiting to start.

Sirius ignores him, knowing that he's going to get a lot of Bludgers to the head, for this. Gryffindor House are strangely protective of Lupin, even though Sirius is surprised they even notice he exists. Sometimes Sirius thinks that Remus Lupin is a particularly dull figment of his imagination.

"Survival of the fittest, Potter," Sirius says, fingers clenching happily around his Beater's bat. "Everyone else coped perfectly fine with a brief bout of vomiting." 

Potter twitches, like he really wants to just end it now with a good strangling, but stops himself, because they both know McGonagall is watching them closely.

Sirius adds, "And it finally gave you all something mildly interesting to write in your stupid newsletter." 

At that Potter's facial expression tightens even further. "Good luck," Potter says, darkly, and then they're off.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius pours himself a glass of orange juice and unsubtly pulls a copy of _The Unofficial Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Weekly Newsletter_ from a pocket in his robes. He carefully folds a recent issue of Snitch and Broom magazine around it, and then starts to read, squinting through his still heavily-swollen black eye. 

 _Headmaster Dumbledore Really Comprised of Nineteen Nifflers Balancing in Formation,_ claims the headline. Sirius rolls his eyes. Lovegood is serious possibly only half of the time, if that, unless his grip on sanity is even more tenuous than anyone had previously thought. Allegedly it runs in his family. The boy did truly believe than an army of Pflumpods were living under the floorboards of the Great Hall and were plotting to take down the school.

Sirius sneaks a look across the table at Snape, who is reading his own copy of the Newsletter – hidden from sight behind a dull-looking _The Wyze Wyzard's Potions Almanac_ , dated 1874 – and frowning hard enough that his pale forehead looks like a vast desert of smooth skin free from any interference from his eyebrows.

"Bad this week?" Sirius asks Snape, who just, somehow, scowls even harder.

Sirius takes a bite of toast and reads further. ' _I swear I saw his beard move of its own volition,'_ says student Andreas Pipebender, 13. _'It was all wriggly, just like a Niffler, and it tried to steal my pocketwatch.'_ "Imbeciles," Snape mutters.

Of course the whole school is currently reading their own copies of the Newsletter, hiding them from the faculty as if Dumbledore himself isn't perfectly aware of the newsletter, which includes the regular column _Albus Dumbledore's Very Modern Fashion Tips_. Slytherins aren't stupid enough to bother hiding theirs from Professors, but hide theirs from everyone else, because the Newsletter is written by Gryffindors, and Slytherins have no interest in the hobbies of Gryffindors, however hilariously insane they are.

Sirius and Severus, however, read theirs for clues, because if Lovegood and his particular group of Gryffindor friends are up to anything, then there's bound to be a hint of it in the Newsletter.

The extremely tiny editor's note at the bottom of the first page catches Sirius' eye: _Next week's Newsletter will be a day late,_ it reads, _due to staffing issues. Apologies for any inconvenience this may cause_  

 _Now that is interesting_ , Sirius thinks. "Anything?" he says aloud, glancing at Snape.

"Gets more inane with every read," Snape replies.

Sirius flicks to the centre pages, which always contain the feature _Ask Snape and Black_ , which purports to be an advice page written by the two of them. There's a photograph in the top corner, of Snape glowering angrily, which he tends to do in all photographs and not just ones taken by Gryffindors with dubious motives, and of Sirius, who's smirking and pouting just to piss them off.

 _Dear Snape and Black,_ the first letter begins, _I have a really embarrassing problem to ask your advice about. I've developed some really large pus-filled boils on a very private area of my body..._

"Oh for fuck's sake," Sirius groans. "What did we do to deserve this?"

"Custard," Snape says shortly.

"Oh. Yes." Sirius smiles. They'd covered some Gryffindors in custard. He and Snape had been forced to tone their tricks down to first year level, after Dumbledore had hinted at expulsion 

The reply reads, _Black says: Well, Concerned Student, that's nothing to worry yourself about! Just do what I do, go straight to Madame Pomfrey and ask her for a 'Sirius Black Special'. That cream whizzes them off in no time! In the meantime, try not to pop the boils – you don't want scars on important parts of your body, do you?_

"Now I regularly catch sexually transmitted diseases, apparently," Sirius says moodily. "And abuse exclamation marks."

Snape tuts, unsympathetically. "And I, apparently, cry myself to sleep every night because girls don't like me."

"Yes." Sirius smiles, just a little. "But that's true."

Snape raises an eyebrow. "So shall we torture some Gryffindors? I'm sure your brother must be involved. Or _Potter_."

"No, we're going straight to the editor this time," Sirius says. He points the editor's note out to Snape. "We need to discover just what's happening on Sunday that's so important."

Snape raises his other eyebrow, impressed.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

"You might as well just tell us," Sirius says, starting to pace again. He's getting rather irritated by this point, and if Sirius is irritated, then Snape must be really fucking irritated. Snape doesn't like doing the dirty work, all the prodding and bullying stuff; Snape likes good clean end results.

"We'll tape your nostrils up again," Sirius adds. Sirius is in it for the kinky torture.

"I will never tell you anything," Nigel Lovegood exclaims bravely, or at least that's what Sirius thinks he's trying for: it's hard to discern actual words through all the spellotape. 

Snape had not liked any of the build-up to this, the ambush and the grabbing, the frantic application of several miles, probably, of spellotape, which is what's holding Lovegood's mouth tight closed, and also his whole body to the wall; splayed in a very undignified way, so much tape used that he's being held in place over a foot off the floor.

Sirius spins on his heel and paces back in the other direction. He's trying for menacing, except Snape's dour, doom-laden expression is achieving that far more effectively, no doubt. 

If they'd gone for Potter, Potter would have been saying, right now, "So which of you's the bad cop?" which was some Muggle-lover joke that neither Sirius nor even Snape really understood. And Evans would have laughed her unattractive female laugh, and then the two of them would have smiled at each other in that horrible soppy way, because they were exasperatingly inseparable at the moment, and Sirius would have had quite a task just trying not to kick both of them in the teeth.

If they'd captured Lupin, Lupin would be saying something infuriatingly dull, like; "Are you two finding this sexually arousing? Because I'm really not," though there would be no point in trying to pump Lupin for information, unless you were looking for mostly-accurate answers to last week's Defence Against the Dark Arts test.

Sirius' right fist really itched to bury itself in Lupin's face, though he'd purposely not tried to recently, ever since he'd realised that for all Lupin's tall scrawny-ness, Lupin could actually take him in a fight. That had been a really depressing end to fifth year.

But no, they've gone for Lovegood, who's fairly mad, and vaguely enjoying himself.

"Severus," Sirius says calmly. This means he's getting serious. Only in moments of the most extreme seriousness does Sirius ever call his best friend by his first name.

"Severus," he might say, "if this potion is really capable of exploding on contact with the short-sighted, I will love you forever," or maybe, "Stop drooling over that red-haired harridan, Severus, and light the fucking taper." More recently there was, "Severus, how about you carry on not telling me about the secret project you were working on this summer, and I carry on not telling you about the secret project I was working on this summer. Right?"

This time, he says, "Severus, stop looking at him like you want his arse and start getting some good information out of him."

Lovegood's inelegantly spread-eagled body twitches indignantly, and he makes a startled little squeaky noise. Sirius notices just how far apart they've taped his legs. That must be extraordinarily uncomfortable for him.

"I'm not talking to you," Lovegood sing-songs. Or at least that's what Sirius assumes he's saying; it sounds more like, 'muhm muh muh-hump mumf hurrrh'.

"Because I won't let Snape have your arse?" Sirius asks.

"This is really not getting the job done," Snape says coldly.

"It's just that you have the best information," Sirius says to Lovegood, almost apologetically, "Everyone knows that. Severus, the tape."

Snape snorts. "But if I take the tape off his mouth," he says, tapping his wand irritably against his arm, "then it will severely lower the impact of my taping his nostrils up."

Sirius grins, because Snape's nasty sarcastic wit is so much more fun than, say, Pettigrew's slightly creepy fawning. Sirius has never managed to work out whether Pettigrew wants to be him or just to sleep with him. Neither thought is particularly appealing.

"True, but I can hardly give him a quill and parchment right now." Lovegood's eyes are bugging out, trying to communicate using only the wild swivelling of his eyeballs 

"Should have taped his eyes shut too," Snape says.

Sirius smiles. "So it's not his arse you're interested in, but those limpid grey pools."

Snape shoots him a sharp look, then reaches and rips off the part of the tape that's holding Lovegood's head and mouth to the wall, fast enough to remove any fledgling moustache-fuzz Lovegood might have been trying to cultivate.

"Not while Snape is here!" Lovegood yelps quickly, as if he thinks he only has a second before he's gagged again. 

Sirius and Snape eye each other, trying to read each other's suspicions just by looking, but eventually Snape just rolls his eyes and storms off, leaving Sirius alone with Lovegood.

"Spit it," Sirius says quickly. He should really get this over with, before he gets caught in this peculiarly compromising situation. He ventures to say, "I know there's something happening on Sunday."

Lovegood gets the strangest expression on his face when Sirius says that, almost nasty yet in a gentle sort of way, but also quite... triumphant? "If I do tell you, what do I get in return?" he asks, apparently perfectly serious. Lovegood is strangely solemn, at all times, nearly, even when you think _he can't possibly mean that_.

"How about, I don't leave you taped to this wall for all eternity?" Sirius says. Lovegood just opens his mouth, really wide, and takes a deep breath – "Okay, stop," Sirius says hurriedly before the screaming can start, cringing at having to make any concession to a Gryffindor. "What do you want? Alcohol? Illegal potions? Don't say something ridiculous and soppy like for me to stop insulting your stupid friends. Or world peace; I'm not in charge of world peace, strangely."

"One of Snape's freaky Locating potions, please," Lovegood says happily. "And, well, no kidding."

Sirius winces. "It'll be a week, at least." 

It isn't like he and Snape haven't done this before; it's fine to trade with Gryffindors, so long as each party thinks themselves to be getting the best deal, and that Sirius is always the one really getting the best deal. Sirius even usually keeps it all honourable and hardly ever lets Snape actually poison anyone.

"Deal," Sirius says finally. "Now spit it out." 

Lovegood does that disturbing smile again, which Sirius knows perfectly well is a very bad sign, definitely big trouble. That's what makes it so much fun.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius and Regulus have a standing date for a secret weekly meeting, which Regulus hasn't turned up to for several weeks, not after Sirius poisoned some of his friends.

This Sunday he actually turns up: unfortunately, because Sirius is even more irritated and impatient than he usually is with his brother. The cupboard echoes with each staccato tap of his foot.

Sirius is also a bit worried that Severus may have followed him this time, because he'd been really interested in whatever secret Lovegood might have confessed. 

First order of business is the asking of awkward questions so each of them can surreptitiously check the other is okay, without in any way suggesting they might care about each other. This is usually followed by one or the other of them casually offering to inflict great punishment on each other's respective house-mates, an offer which is usually declined.

Second order of business is discussing any family communications, and rating their mother's sanity on a scale of one to ten, for easy reference. Sirius usually chain-smokes roll-up cigarettes throughout the second part, while Regulus watches him with some disgust.

Third order of business is carefully pumping each other for information, because Sirius is sneaky and certainly not above trying to weasel information about what the Gryffindors are up to out of his own brother.

Today, Sirius can tell that his brother is seconds away from cracking, slapping him in the face and sitting on Sirius' leg to stop him jiggling it.

 "You're hiding something!" Regulus accuses him finally, his voice childish and whiny. He may be proud and brave and snooty with his Gryffindor friends, but family members really bring out the brat in Regulus.

Sirius shrugs, leg still going, and rolls another cigarette.

"You are! First you're weird, and hide in your room all summer; I mean, what, did you finally discover masturbation or something?"

Sirius raises an eyebrow. Generally, during summer holidays they call a kind of truce, or at least don't spend the whole time avoiding each other. Sirius just had better things to do this summer, and he's not going to apologise for that.

"I'm nearly seventeen now," he says, again. "Once I can do magic whenever I want, I'll have to find new, more illegal ways to get my thrills." Sirius smiles in the most horrible way he can muster, just to creep Regulus out.

"Oh god, Sirius!" Regulus says, getting all shrieky-voiced, "I don't need to know what you and your right hand get up to." Good, that's good; get Regulus all pissed off, and then Sirius can be out of here. 

"Actually, I have a date tonight," he says. It's the same lie he's told the whole of Slytherin house; generally he lets them assume he's in a cupboard with a girl every Sunday, rather than having soppy meetings with his stupid brother. Presumably they don't believe him: Severus certainly doesn't. 

But they can't possibly know the truth. Sirius and Regulus are very careful to make sure the whole school knows how much they hate each other, and Sirius makes sure never to exclude his brother from any nasty tricks he's playing on the rest of the Gryffindors. Really, Sirius is just keeping an eye on Regulus, to stop him getting too goody-goody and Gryffindor-y.

Really, Sirius should just tell Regulus some of the truth for once, _You know that I never have a date._ Regulus would be the only person in the world who wouldn't mind; it's not like they haven't got enough reasons to hate each other, and they still talk and get on okay, even if it's only at eight pm every Sunday night in a cupboard. 

"Fine, then," Regulus says moodily, though Sirius is always careful not to ask Regulus if he's having any problems with girls himself, or anything. Sirius wouldn't know what to say about that. "Though I don't believe for one second that that's what you're so excited about."

"You know me," Sirius says, "always up to no good." He gives Regulus that awkward shoulder pat they've got sort of used to doing. "Same time next week."

Regulus pouts and nods. "I could have a date, too," he whines, and Sirius says, "Yeah, yeah," and laughs at him. 

They check the coast is clear before leaving, Regulus heading for the Gryffindor common room, and Sirius downstairs towards the nearest exit. 

It's cold outside the castle. Sirius pulls his cloak closer around him, though the anticipation is keeping him warm enough.

Lovegood had been particularly vague about what time Sirius should arrive, had just said 'Sunday, after dark', ominously, and also ridiculously; because it was November and they were in Scotland, so it got dark at three-thirty during Care of Magical Creatures. When Sirius had pointedly glanced towards the window then glared at Lovegood, Lovegood had just smiled, bloody mildly, and shrugged.

It's as if Lovegood doesn't even remember what he's said. 

There's no-one around, or at least no people. 

As he walks towards the forest, Sirius can hear slightly disturbing animal noises; chattering bird calls that sound like alarm clocks, the frantic scratching of something tiny and angry in a nearby tree, and further away a growling, ripping sound that means a smaller creature is currently being torn apart by something with big claws and fangs.

Sirius' stomach turns over with the pure, unadulterated thrill of it. Any excuse to use his amazing shiny new absolutely-fucking-genius secret disguise.

 He doesn't care if it's a trap, inexpertly set by that basketcase Nigel Lovegood; all Sirius has to do is change, and then no-one will even know he's here. And so he does it, slips behind a tree and does, then pads carefully closer to the Whomping Willow, still ducking behind trees for cover. 

There's a way to stop the tree thrashing, apparently, and a passageway, or something. Lovegood was fairly hazy on the subject. Sirius doesn't know what will happen. He doesn't want to go in any passageways, he wants to stay out here, in the forest. If he goes into some secret passage he might get ambushed by a pack of rampaging Gryffindors.

He tries to settle, to wait and catch them creeping away again, but his thought processes are different now, blurry like drunkenness. Everything feels easier, somehow more natural. He sniffs around the base of a tree, an oak; rich bark, hot peaty earth and the sticky, heady scent of other creatures; tiny crawly things and bigger, feline things. He isn't good at recognising them yet, too new at this. Something smells a bit like horses, horses but more woody and musky; centaurs, or deer. 

Oh, oh, and there is something really good, wild and canine, and so gorgeous that he has to find it, has to follow it.

 Bugger waiting.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius wakes to the sound of James Potter saying, "Oh shitting fucking fuck."

 Everything hurts, so he just tries to stay really still.

"I repeat," Potter says sternly, god his voice is annoying, "what was it you were thinking, again?" Sirius can hear him stomping up and down on the floorboards; can feel each thumping footstep vibrate up through his aching bones. As if he isn't uncomfortable enough, all scratched up and soggy with mud and rain. Bastard.

"I – just –" It's Evans, sounding confused. "I felt sorry for it." 

Sirius carefully opens one eye, to try to get his bearings. "You've dirt on your cheek," Lovegood says suddenly, interrupting. Sirius sees Evans lick at her wrist and then jerk her arm up to clean herself. If he'd been human, Sirius would have laughed at her. Also, she appears to be quite indecently underdressed for being in company.

Lying next to Sirius is Lupin, still unconscious. He looks a little bashed-up, but mostly just sickly, freckles standing out darkly on his pale skin. He's also completely naked, apart from a bit of blanket for his modesty. Every time Sirius exhales his breath ruffles Lupin's soft curly hair.

"So, what?" Potter snaps back at Evans. He's not properly angry, Sirius can tell, just that not-enough-sleep itchy-and-irritated sort of angry. "We patch it up then take it back to the owner; 'I'm sorry, Sir, we broke your dog a bit and for some reason it's covered in wolf bites'?"

Sirius is offended; he's not covered in bites. He put up a fairly good show, he thinks.

"It really doesn't look like an owned sort of dog," Evans says thoughtfully. 

Good point. Sirius is no-one's pet. You wouldn't catch him wearing a collar. 

"Is it very broken?" Lovegood asks. 

"I think the dog is fine," Lupin says suddenly, practically in Sirius' ear. "I'm awake, by the way." His voice is quiet and gruff and sore sounding. 

"Morning," Evans says softly, pressing a flannel into Lupin's hand, which she'd clearly been preparing to use on Sirius. Sirius is eternally grateful for Lupin's timely intervention. 

Lupin looks at the flannel like he's expecting it to have dog hair on it, then half sits up and starts to rub himself down with it, avoiding a fresh-and-bloody new bite wound Sirius can see on his side. My teeth, Sirius thinks, shocked at himself. 

Despite his exhaustion, Sirius still feels too feral. He has a weird urge to nuzzle up to the boy lying next to him. He has the vague feeling they should be licking each other's wounds clean, soft commiserations for each playful scrape or bite they'd inflicted. 

At first it had felt like the wolf part of Lupin had been trying to kill him, but they were sort of evenly matched, as two large-ish canine creatures, and Sirius had known when to snap teasingly back and when to belly up and offer his submission. 

Sirius is feeling sore now, but tired and strangely content in his doggy way. He cuddles into Lupin's warmth, and tries to go back to sleep. Lupin sighs heavily, and shuffles close to Sirius, too, slinging an arm across him.

"Oh dear god," Lovegood says, "puppy love." Sirius doesn't care. Evans snorts with laughter, though it comes out squeaky and a little feline.

"Oh good," Potter says, very sarcastically, though he's laughing. "The wolf is in love with someone's pet dog. Brilliant." 

"It's just so romantic," Lovegood says, possibly serious, "like a fairytale!" while Evans chokes with laughter again.

Potter stops laughing suddenly, and then there's a muzzle nudging at Sirius' side. Sirius deigns to raise his head and finds the stag has pushed him aside and is licking the bite wound on Lupin's side.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius spends all day thinking about it. _Dreams_ about it, when he falls asleep in History of Magic. 

It takes him a weirdly long time to work it all out, though the dream he has in History of Magic helps; flashes of snarling teeth bathed in cold moonlight. Annoyingly, it seems as if Sirius is more perceptive when he's a dog. 

In a rushed shower, while the rest of Slytherin House are eating lunch, Sirius checks over his body. He's half panicking as he does it, heart thundering in his chest as he runs fingers over his skin, until it's too much - confusion, fear, adrenaline - and he has to wrap a trembling hand around his cock and make himself come, quickly.

There are no bite marks, or no wolf bite marks – just a small ring of feline teeth on his ankle, and puncture wounds from being dive-bombed by a large, angry bird. He supposes he can give Lovegood that, at least, after the spellotape thing. 

But. It's just that it's _Lupin_. Sirius has hundreds of questions he wants to ask. He's too amazed, by how easily they've hidden this from everyone. That serious, boring, irritating Remus Lupin spends the occasional night out in the forest snarling rabidly and terrorising unicorns and eating rabbits.

Werewolf.

It is, quite simply, the most brilliant thing ever. Sirius can't believe it happened to _Remus Lupin_ and not to him.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius hides behind a door in the empty-looking hospital wing, waiting for Madame Pomfrey to bustle off. He could just ask her if he can come in, but he's fairly sure he knows how that would go. 'Hi, I'm here to see Lupin.' 'Get out of my sight, Black.' Yeah, that won't work. 

He feels weirdly nervous about this, heart fluttering in his chest, palms sweaty. Sirius takes a deep breath and wipes his hands dry on his robes. _This is just another prank_ , he tells himself firmly.

When Pomfrey finally shuffles into her little office, he creeps quietly across the room; in stages, hiding in the shelter of bed-curtains whenever he can. 

And there he is, right at the far end, curtains half curled around his bed. He's reading a book, looking tired and battered, those big dark circles around his eyes, the same ones he'd had this morning, and yesterday morning. Lupin is shirtless, bare-chested and barefoot, dressed only in jeans and bandages; a thick bandage twists around his bicep and another is taped to his flank. His fingers, holding the sides of his book, are black and bloody around the tips and under his nails. There's also blood seeping through the bandage on his side, in a wide crescent arc.

Moony.

 _I did that,_ Sirius thinks as he looks at the wound, and his stomach clenches in a tight ball of nervous excitement. Pomfrey will have assumed Lupin had done it to himself. _But it was me_ , Sirius tells himself, _my teeth_. 

 _Mine_.

"Black?" Lupin says then, sounding incredulous. Sirius drags his gaze upwards, to rest on Lupin's pale, drained face. The words _You fancied beating on me while I'm ill?_ practically hang there in the air, even though it doesn't look like Lupin has the energy to say them aloud.

It's then that Sirius realises he has an erection, and so should probably get the hell out of there before Lupin has any chance to notice. 

Because Sirius doesn't seem to have any clear thoughts except for his cock and _my teeth marks_ , Lupin feels the need to fill the silence by saying, "We had a Potions accident, Nigel and I." His voice is still very rough-sounding, deep enough to make their conversation sound heated and intimate, even when they're eight feet apart.

Sirius can remember Lupin growling a lot last night while they fought, which must have scratched his throat up a bit.

Lupin is worried that his secret will be discovered, Sirius realises, with a strange sense of disappointment. He doesn't know if there's something else he'd expected from him, or hoped for. He doesn't know why Lupin should be so anxious; it isn't as if students don't have ridiculous accidents all the time. A couple of bloody bandages could mean anything. In other circumstances, Sirius would never have guessed. 

"That's all it is," Lupin says flatly. "And you can beat me up another time." 

When Sirius finally finds his voice, all he can say is, "Faggots," even though it comes out sounding strangely bitter, instead of mocking.

"Of course," Lupin says quickly, but with not quite enough sarcasm. "We were doing perverted things in the Potions classroom. Extra work, that is. After lessons, last night."

 Lupin looks wide-eyed and worried, and so fucking pale, though he'd been white as a sheet even before. 

"I'll get you later," Sirius says hurriedly, and probably completely unthreateningly, and rushes out. He feels dizzy, his cock aches and he can't concentrate, like he's still stuck in dog-form and not a proper Sirius at all.

It's still there, in the back of his mind; he can remember what it's like to run his teeth all over Lupin's body, fasten them deep into his waist. 

He quickly makes his way to his dormitory, walking awkwardly, only to find Snape is in there, spoiling any chance Sirius had of having a wank straight away.

Snape is surrounded by books and has a small cauldron set up on his bed. He barely glances at Sirius, but, at length, says, "I have ways of making you tell me," very calmly.

Sirius knows that. He has no doubt that Severus has the skill and ingredients for it.

"You are behaving very strangely," Snape continues scornfully, as Sirius lies down on his belly on his own bed. He can almost feel the rough graze of Lupin's muzzle across his skin. 

"Nothing happened," Sirius blurts out, mostly to squash his uncomfortable thoughts, "I got bored waiting and went on my date instead."

"The date was a cover story. You didn't have a date." 

"What would you know," Sirius snaps back. He presses his face into the pillow. It's then that he suddenly realises. 

Nigel Lovegood _tried to kill him_ last night.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

The following Saturday, Sirius finds himself sitting out on an old rickety balcony with only Snape and a bottle of stolen wine for company. Snape is not in the best of moods, having been forced to leave his research behind in order to befuddle his brain with alcohol, for no good reason other than because Sirius wanted someone to join him.

This isn't the sort of friendship they have. Sirius just needs something to do, something other than spending every possible waking hour as a dog running in the forest, or obsessively reading every book in the library about werewolves, or doing something insane like finding Lupin and sniffing and licking at his skin, or, even crazier, attempting to hold a conversation with him. It is sort of weird that he has to consciously stop himself from following Lupin every time he sees him around school.

"You'd better have something important to say," Snape says, once he's finished with the scathing commentary on the quality of the wine. "And something more important than any 'I want to go out with Susan but she prefers David' kind of inanity. You haven't been sleeping and you look like death warmed up; if this is because of a girl then I will never speak to you again."

Sirius smiles, and sips more wine from his tankard. He's spent most of his school years revelling in everything he knows that Snape doesn't, and he isn't going to stop it now. "I don't know why your opinion of me is so perpetually low. I don't deserve it."

Sirius begins rolling himself a cigarette, purely to piss Snape off, letting the silence stretch out an infuriatingly long time. "What," he says finally, around the filter of his cigarette, "is the proper retribution when someone attempts to kill you?" He turns to look at Snape as he says it, wanting to catch the minute twist of surprise that even Snape won't be able to help betraying. 

"Lovegood tried to kill you?" Snape asks, quickly. Sirius nods. "We did nearly kill Lupin in September," Snape admits, "if unintentionally. And I'm assuming Lovegood's attempt on your life was so inept as to be considered only very slightly malicious in intent." 

"Not at all," Sirius says, indignant; of course Snape would insist on downplaying this, simply because it didn't happen to him. Sirius can only imagine Snape's rage if it had been his near-death experience – or actual death, since how would Snape have escaped in the circumstances?

Sirius continues; "In fact, if Lovegood hadn't massively underestimated me, for once through no fault of his own, he could easily have killed me."

"Yet you don't want to punish him," Snape comments, while Sirius lights up his cigarette. 

"I have my reasons," Sirius says around a lungful of smoke. 

Snape must be absolutely desperate by now, to find out exactly how Nigel Lovegood had tried to bump Sirius off. He gives Sirius a particularly sour look. "Anything else you wanted to ask me?"

There isn't. Sirius is already back to thinking about Animagi, and Remus Lupin, and, oh shit. 

"Lupin," Sirius says suddenly, aloud, because it only takes some simple counting to work out why some mild, hilariously rainbow-coloured food poisoning had nearly killed Lupin when it had merely inconvenienced the rest of Gryffindor House. 

"I doubt Lupin is trying to kill you, unless Lovegood is doing it on his behalf," Snape says sourly. His expression sours further after he takes another sip of wine. 

"You know what's really annoying?" Sirius asks. 

"This conversation," Snape says. 

"Spending nearly ten fucking years trying to achieve something, only to discover that someone else has done it first. And better." Sirius downs the rest of his mug of wine. 

James Potter is just the world's biggest bastard.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius is walking back towards the castle after Herbology, casting a brief sideways glance at Lupin as the Gryffindor boys stalk past, because he just can't help himself. Lupin, who is wearing striped fingerless gloves, and a matching polka-dotted bobble hat. Which makes him look like _such an idiot_ , Sirius thinks angrily, as he hears Lupin suddenly say, "—I am dealing with this myself right now. Don't wait for me at dinner," and then there's a hand tightly gripping Sirius' wrist. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sirius spits at him, as Lupin drags him behind the nearest greenhouse and pushes him against the cold glass. 

"That is just what I was going to ask you," Lupin says darkly. His hands are now tightly gripping Sirius' biceps, and he's only an inch or two from being nose to nose with Sirius.

Sirius rather likes it, that Lupin has never, never been physically scared of him. The two of them are almost exactly the same height, Sirius notices peripherally, as Lupin's fingers dig in so tightly that he can feel them as if they were touching his skin. 

Sirius has an erection, again, which is just great. It's lucky the greenhouse they've been working in is being kept cool and so he's wearing his very thickest robes and cloak. 

In fifth year there'd been a bit of a fight between Slytherin and Gryffindor, when they were all stressed in the middle of their OWLs; Potter had been teasing Snape, Snape had been getting at Evans, and there had been some punching and some rather nasty hexing. Sirius had tried to swing a fist at Lupin, because Lupin's stupid face was just asking for it, only he'd missed and then Lupin had grabbed him this same way, by the biceps, and just shoved him away, really hard. Sirius had ended up sprawled on the floor, thinking, _wow, he's strong._  

And he still is now; Lupin's thin fingers are werewolf-strong, and Sirius is hard and practically swooning in his arms.

"Seriously," Lupin says. His eyes are a really pale yellowy-brown that someone more romantic might describe as hazel, and close-to he has literally millions of those tiny freckles all over his nose and sprinkled across his cheeks. Fuzzy curls of his hair peek out from around the edges of his ridiculous woolly hat. "Tell me what is going on," he says firmly. "It will be so much easier than the alternative."

Which is what? Sirius thinks. If Lupin decides to punch him now, Sirius is fairly sure that he'll _like_ it. 

Sirius opens his mouth to breathe; the smell of Lupin's skin is making him dizzy, and he can taste fruity-sugary boiled sweets on Lupin's breath. Sirius says, "Nothing's going on," though it's more like a weak mumble than the strident tone he usually uses for patronising Gryffindors.

The crinkled frown between Lupin's eyebrows deepens, and Sirius watches him, intently; as Lupin considers what to say next and carefully wets his lips. Lupin's tongue is weirdly thin, as it slides along his top lip, and that is it for Sirius; his hands are suddenly reaching, curling tightly around the narrowest part of Lupin's waist and he's jerking himself forward to press his own lips against Lupin's newly-damp ones.

Lupin twitches, hard, in shock, and he tries to drag in a deep breath, except Sirius' mouth is covering his, and so he ends up just sucking the air from Sirius' lungs and making a soft strangled choking sound. Sirius tightens his hands, digs his nails in. Lupin squeaks and his body jerks, which gives Sirius room to tilt his head and slide his tongue slowly between Lupin's parted lips. Lupin squeaks again, and then his hands are slamming into Sirius' chest, pushing away.

"You just – Oh god, that explains everything," he says on a heavy breath out, his words rushed. He's backing off now, of course; horrified now, instead of threatening. "No," Lupin continues, as he turns away, "too much; it explains _far too much_ ," and then he's around the corner, and gone. 

Sirius stands there, gasping inelegantly as he flops back against the greenhouse wall. Even though it feels like a terrible cliché, he presses a slightly trembling hand against his own lips, dragging his fingers clumsily over the skin. 

A few more seconds of kissing and he'd probably have just come, from almost nothing. He needs somewhere to be alone. Now.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Lupin says, "That was – it was just a joke, wasn't it?" and Sirius stops in his tracks and spins around, surprised, because he thought Lupin would never talk to him or look at him again. It's been a long week.

 _Just say it_ , Sirius tells himself, but then he doesn't really want to, and he doesn't think he could do it convincingly.  _Of course, Lupin,_ he'd have to say, _of course I didn't actually want to kiss you._ And he'd need a nasty mocking expression on his face to go with it, a really good leer as he stares Lupin down. 

God, Lupin is so fucking pretty. 

It is moments like this when Sirius regrets any superiority he ever imagined he had over the other boys, having watched his classmates stumbling awkwardly over their words whenever they attempted a conversation with some particular girl or other. He knows now just what that feels like. 

Sirius shrugs and says, "Believe what you like." 

Lupin watches him with a wary expression, waiting for a punch – or another kiss, which it's clear he thinks would be just as bad. 

"I'm sorry," Sirius says, to his own surprise – and finds himself looking at the floor, the bloody floor! – "about, you know, nearly killing you. You know, er, that time." Sirius winces; he can hear Snape's endlessly mocking laughter very loudly in his head. 

"It's good to know that you've gone completely crazy," Lupin says. His eyes are on the floor now, too, when Sirius forces himself to look up. "Though it's a shame I can't enjoy it as much as I'd like to."

"Right," Sirius says. 

It feels like Lupin has just slapped him, almost literally, in the face, though what had he really expected Lupin to say? _'Sorry I nearly killed you'_ was hardly an effusive declaration of anything, even if it is possibly the nicest thing Sirius has ever said to Lupin in the over five years they've been at school together. 

The floorboards in this corridor could really use some work. Filch and the House Elves are not doing their jobs properly, Sirius thinks.

"So if I wait another month, you might apologise for the other thing?" Lupin asks.

 "You didn't tell anyone?" Sirius blurts out. _Coward_ , he tells himself,  _you are a fucking pathetic coward_.

"Of course. I told all my friends. Immediately. My girlfriend, she was really pleased." Lupin is scowling at a particular part of the skirting board as he says this, while Sirius dies a little more inside and thinks, _this is what the rest of my life will be like._  

Lupin has a _girlfriend_ , which Sirius presumably hadn't noticed due to the fact that Lupin has more class than Potter, and so doesn't follow said girl around constantly, simpering and drooling as he goes. 

"Right," Sirius says. He clenches his jaw really hard, to stop himself from accidentally apologising for _the other thing._

"Right," Lupin echoes.

Sirius tries to think of a way to end the slow torture that is this conversation, without resorting to hexes.

 Lupin says, "Don't you have somewhere to be?" waving a hand vaguely in the air, and Sirius realises that Lupin wants to get to somewhere that is behind Sirius, down the corridor he is currently blocking.

"I'm sorry," Sirius snaps, stepping aside, "do you need my permission, or what?"

"You know, I heard that too many memory charms can cause schizophrenia like yours," Lupin says airily as he storms off.

Sirius doesn't watch him go, but casts Tantellegra over his shoulder and enjoys Lupin's angry yelp, though he forces himself not to turn and look.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius is in the potions laboratory, on the desk with legs crossed as he carefully watches Snape's latest invention bubble through slowly. 

"The second it starts to change colour," Snape says for the thousandth time, while he irritably chops at a collection of roots and leaves, and Sirius says "Yes, yes," and stares mournfully down into the murky greenish depths of the cauldron.

"I'm assuming this is a girl thing that I don't want to ask you about," Snape says.

"I don't have a girl," Sirius says defensively, "it's not a girl thing." 

"Do you ever have a girl," Snape says, thoughtfully. 

Sirius raises an eyebrow and slowly, meaningfully, says, "Come on, Severus, you know this."

Snape sprinkles his ingredients into the second cauldron. "I've never given it any thought," he says, which means that he hadn't known it at all, actually. "Colour?"

"Same," Sirius says, and Snape's face pinches into a frown.

While they're on the subject, Sirius says, "Doesn't it make you feel like a traitor, having a pathetic crush on a Gryffindor?"

Snape is startled at that, because they only ever hedge around Snape's Lily Evans obsession, but he still manages to say, "If you are about to confess undying love for James Potter then I should just kill you right now."

"As if I'd go for someone as boring as Potter," Sirius says. That'll throw Snape off the scent, anyway, because Sirius has spent most of his school years lamenting the endless dullness that is Remus Lupin. 

A few choice insults will get you into a good, satisfying screaming match with Potter, or will cause Lovegood to lash out wildly, and Evans will just hex your legs right off and then go fetch a professor. It has always made Sirius quite irrationally angry, that Lupin won't even bother to look you in the eye as he says, "Oh do shut up, Black," and goes back to whatever he was doing.

"So." Snape screws up his face, plainly trying to think of anything sympathetic or useful to say, and failing. Surely, Sirius thinks, Snape has at least some normal adolescent longings, somewhere deep inside. Very deep. "Your boy, then, does he..." 

"Totally hates my guts," Sirius says cheerfully, then, "Yellow?"

Snape walks over and looks into the cauldron. "Oh. Never mind then. Next batch." 

Sirius scrambles off the desk and goes to watch the nearly-finished second cauldron.

Giving the potion a final stir, Snape says, "I was going to say, does he know."

"He's got a pretty good idea." Snape looks at him, his face the very picture of utter disgust. "I," Sirius starts, then realises he may as well just spit everything out, "I might have kissed him on the lips."

Snape doesn't even look surprised this time. "You have no impulse control." 

"It's better than pining tormentedly from afar," Sirius says carelessly. "Oh shit, that just went pink." They both peer at the potion. Snape raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm not gunna drink it!" Sirius exclaims. 

"I could be making a faultless love potion to aid us both in our agonies," Snape says, so deadpan that Sirius is probably the only person on earth who would know he's not serious.

"Yes. Because lots of love potions use bat droppings as a main ingredient," Sirius says. 

He finds it really irritating that Snape is actually trying to make him feel better. Even more irritating is the fact that it's working.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

This time Sirius wakes faster, having slept from pure exhaustion, but with the blood singing through his veins. His head is resting on Lupin's bare belly, skin that smells of animal and forest, and Sirius is desperate to be human, just so he could kiss every sticky, sweaty inch of Lupin's chest. 

Lupin is awake enough to be idly petting him, grubby fingers scratching behind Sirius' ears, while Potter and Evans and Lovegood have almost exactly the same conversation they'd had last month. 

"That is not someone's pet dog," Lovegood is saying, "it's what happens when a Labrador and a black bear love each other very much."

Evans has a very dirty laugh, and Lupin's chest hitches with a little giggle. Sirius snuggles into him; he can feel the pain in Lupin's bones and knows that his body heat is helping. He'd climb even further on top of him if he thought he could trust himself. 

"He's neither, you know," Lupin says after a while. "This one's a man."

The whole room goes painfully still around them, Lupin sleepy and unconcerned as his friends freeze in horror. Sirius feels his fur prickle. Even with his eyes closed he can picture their faces. He's not worried himself, because Lupin isn't.

"He just wants a pack to run with," Lupin says reasonably, which is so true. His fingers continue to caress Sirius' fur. 

"That's brilliant, Remus," Evans snaps, "but much as I'd love to get arrested—"

"How did you know?" Potter asks, and then the important question: "Could you tell that when you were transformed?"

Lupin huffs out a laugh. Sirius doesn't think Lupin knows much of anything when he's transformed. "No, no. It's just obvious, now."

Sirius opens his eyes, because he can feel them circling. 

"Make him change," Lovegood says. 

"Even I'm not that good yet," Evans says irritably, while Potter pokes Sirius' nose. Barely thinking, Sirius is quickly up on his legs and barking furiously, and takes a snap at Potter's fingers. It's enough to make them back off. Lupin slowly pulls himself into a sitting position, and laughs at his friends as they keep a careful ten feet between themselves and Sirius. 

Having successfully defended himself and Remus, Sirius leans his paws on Lupin's chest to have him lie down again, and settles back into his happy place, dozing with his head on Lupin's belly. 

"Remus," Potter says, "he could be anyone. Dumbledore; or your mum; or Todd Harper." 

"I think we'd have noticed if there were any famous Quidditch players who lived in Hogsmeade and liked to go running in the school grounds on a full moon," Lovegood says.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Snape watches Sirius solemnly. "Would it be so bad," Snape says, "if it was permanent?"

Sirius, having been Snape's best friend for over five years, knows that the extra tightness of Snape's lips, and the wild look around the corners of his eyes, means that Snape is laughing at him. 

"I hate you," Sirius says, "you bastard. And stop staring at my naked chest, you fag."

That's enough to make Snape snort out loud with laughter. 

The hospital wing is mostly empty, apart from the two of them, and a cross fifth year Hufflepuff in the next bed over from Sirius', who is holding her hands in a bowl of cloudy grey potion. _She_ isn't staring at Sirius' chest. 

"Here we go," Poppy Pomfrey says, striding into the room. She hands a small pot to Snape, and what looks like a fat stubby paint brush. 

Snape glares into the pot -- which contains a bright blue paste -- as if he doesn't trust anything he didn't concoct himself. "Get painting," Pomfrey says, then turns away. "How's it going, Lizzy?" she asks the Hufflepuff.

The girl ignores her, continues staring straight ahead. Sirius has no idea what happened to the girl, but he admires Lizzy's dedication to plotting revenge.

Pomfrey sighs. "These accidents happen," she says determinedly, talking as if Sirius' 'accident' was in some way related to the Hufflepuff girl, and was actually an accident at all, "while you're just learning at Transfiguration. You'll both be right as rain in an hour or so."

"I have snakeskin, on my stomach," Sirius says angrily, and Hufflepuff Lizzy doesn't bother to react. Pomfrey sighs, again, and leaves, after making a pointed paintbrush gesture telling Snape to get a move on. 

Once she's gone, Snape places the pot and paintbrush on Sirius' bedside table. "You can manage that for yourself, I think."

Sirius looks down at his own chest, the neat tessellation of the tiny green and gold snakeskin patterns that curl around his belly button and then up the centre of his rib cage to spread out where his chest hair should be, if he'd ever had much. 

"I have things to do," Snape says as he makes his way to the door. 

"I hate you," Sirius yells, but affectionately, because he's hoping those things to do include hexing some Gryffindors. "I don't suppose you want to help me?" Sirius asks the Hufflepuff. Her lack of interest in staring at his nipples makes him feel strangely fond of her. 

She turns to face him and draws her hands out of the bowl, which makes a loud slurping sound. "No," she says, raising her palms to him, fingers splayed wide, as if she's trying to indicate to him the number ten. Except she's holding up fourteen instead of ten. Her hands are shaking.

"Don't worry about it, then," Sirius says. It comes out sounding rather strangled. Lizzy puts her hands back in the bowl. 

Madame Pomfrey's voice drifts through from the corridor; "If it's your fault then feel free to get in there and help fix it," followed by an angry-looking Lupin storming into the room. 

Pushing down any feelings of shock or embarrassment, Sirius quickly decides to look on the bright side and says, "Want to scratch my belly?" though Lupin, of course, won't get the joke. Lupin just stands at the end of Sirius' bed, glaring at him.

Fine, Sirius thinks. "If it was your fault," he says, "the cure is right there." He indicates the blue stuff on the bedside table. Sirius thinks this could be fun. 

Lupin lifts the brush and pot, staring into the pot distastefully. "If this is what I think it is," Lupin says, "it burns off the top layer of your skin."

"Fantastic," Sirius says with great feeling. "Maybe you could have thought about that, before you transfigured my flesh into this." 

Lupin's eyes flick miserably down Sirius' chest, and he pushes the brush into the blue paste. He yanks the curtain around the left side of Sirius' bed, so Lizzy doesn't have to watch, then sits down on the thin mattress, barely close enough to reach Sirius. 

It turns out not to be any fun at all. Lupin's cheeks are pinker than Sirius has ever seen them. He doesn't want to be doing this. When the brush first touches Sirius' skin, Sirius just stares unhappily down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. He feels his own cheeks flush with blood. 

"I'm sorry," he says, amazed at how pathetic he'll allow himself to be in front of Lupin, pathetic enough to apologise for something that isn't even his fault, mostly. Sirius might have started it with some witty insults, but Lupin's the one who lost his temper and hexed him. 

"Shut up," Lupin tells him. 

He carries on stroking the brush over Sirius' skin, trailing it up the centre of Sirius' chest. It hurts, a lot, really feeling like it's burning his skin off, but it still gives him goosebumps. 

Sirius manages to make himself look up, and Lupin is closer now, their faces only inches apart. Nervous dread settles in Sirius' stomach, strong enough to make him forget the tingling and the ferocious itching across his belly. Last time he'd been this close to Lupin had been a disaster, and he thinks this time he might get punched. 

Lupin blinks a lot. Sirius wants to kiss his eyelashes, his nose and his mouth.

"There," Lupin says eventually. "All done."

Sirius looks down at the blue paste on his belly, then up again. Lupin is still sitting too close, watching him nervously. 

Last time, Sirius had chosen to do it anyway and take the consequences, however humiliating. It's going to be the same this time. 

He places one hand against the back of Lupin's neck and pulls him in. Lupin growls slightly, though not in a good way. His lips are wetter this time, as if he's been expecting this and licking them worriedly. Sirius opens his mouth and licks inside Lupin's. Lupin isn't kissing him back, but he isn't moving away, so Sirius drags him closer, until Lupin falls forward and their chests press together. 

Sirius is constantly amazed by his own body; that he's in the Hospital Wing, itchy and in pain and transfigured, but still sure that he could come in less than a minute, if Lupin would just press tighter against him. Sirius finds himself saying, "Please, please," softly, and stroking his palm down along Lupin's jaw, until, finally, Lupin's tongue flicks, just a little. 

Sirius groans and bites his lips in harder. He opens his eyes to see Lupin; the blur of freckles across his cheekbone. Lupin's eyes are closed, his eyelashes shivering as Sirius licks at his tongue.

"Are you--" 

Lupin pulls back sharply.

It's Madame Pomfrey, standing in the doorway, wide-eyed.

"Are you -- done with the paste?" She's looking at the corresponding stripe of blue on the front of Lupin's robes as she speaks. "Can you two not stop fighting for one minute," she says angrily, but looks a little flustered, as if she knew what had really been going on and doesn't know what to think about it. 

Lupin looks quite terrified. He rubs at the blue on the front of his robes with his sleeve. "Black is always --" Lupin starts, and then seems unable to quite say what he was trying to, probably 'molesting me'. "--completely mental," he finishes.

"How insightful," Madame Pomfrey says. "Lupin, you'd better get back to your lesson." 

Lupin nods and flees immediately, leaving Sirius with a very confused Poppy Pomfrey.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

"You really have to stop all this abominable pining," Snape says, because he's truly enjoying it. 

Sirius tells him to shut up, and keeps walking. 

It would be easier if Lupin was just refusing to look him in the eye; instead, every time Sirius looks at Lupin, Lupin narrows his eyes threateningly. 

Sirius has had enough of this, and he needs to get rid of Snape in time for his meeting with his brother, who will probably spend the whole time telling him much the same thing as Snape is. 

"Yesterday at dinner, that was really pathetic," Snape continues. 

Sirius has to smile, because he'd managed to convince Snape that it was Isaac Dominick he was pining for, by neatly choreographing an incident in which they bumped into each other when Sirius was making his way across the Great Hall carrying a plate of food, with the added bonus that he'd got to spill mince and dumplings down the front of Dominick's robes, and the dickhead got five house points taken away from him for swearing at Sirius.

"I have things to do," Sirius says, trying to sound mysterious.

"I doubt it," Snape says. "But I do."

To add insult to injury, once Sirius has finally got rid of Snape, Regulus is over twenty minutes late for their meeting. Sirius spends the twenty minutes trying to come up with ways he could try to get Lupin alone, and failing to think of anything good. Lupin quite obviously wants nothing to do with him, and getting him alone will probably end with the two of them hexing lumps out of each other. Again.

"Sorry!" Regulus gasps as he falls through the cupboard door looking shifty. "I had things to do." 

Sirius rolls his eyes, and lights another cigarette.

"Are you really not coming home for Christmas?" Regulus asks once he's flapped around the small cupboard for far too long. "Mother really isn't happy."

The full moon falls on Christmas night this year, so Sirius really doesn't care what his mother thinks.

"And you're behaving very strangely," Regulus says.

Sirius doesn't care what Regulus thinks either.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

They're sitting in the library, Lupin feverishly scribbling away at some Arithmancy essay, and Sirius pretending he just happened to randomly sit in this seat to work on his Potions essay but really just staring his fill of the way Lupin nibbles the ends of his fingers when he's thinking.

It's nearly forty-five minutes before Lupin finally gets the courage to speak.

Quietly, Lupin says, "It's not that I'm not flattered," and that's good. Sirius thinks: _so he should be_.

It should be flattering. Sirius is important; he's rich, he's clever, he's good-looking. Now all he needs to do is get Lupin to feel flattered enough to do something about it.

"Okay," Sirius says cautiously. He pushes his schoolwork aside, no point in pretending.

"But the thing is, I think you're an arrogant prick," Lupin continues, matter-of-factly.

He's always quite matter-of-fact, is Lupin; not exactly sensible, but despite the way that Potter thinks he's in charge of that particular Gryffindor friendship group, and that Evans is the actual boss of them, Lupin is the most grown up. 

And he'd have to be, Sirius thinks, remembering the Whomping Willow, newly planted before his first term at Hogwarts, the way the older students were so intrigued by this late addition to the school grounds. It happened before Lupin was eleven years old.

Sirius says, "It's not like I want us to be friends. I just want to..." He tails off, because saying _shag you_ probably wouldn't go down that well, but Lupin hears it anyway, his eyes widening. 

 _I want you to fuck me_ , Sirius thinks, _hold me down and bite me like you do on a full moon_. Maybe it shows in his eyes.

Lupin's eyes go comically wide and his mouth drops open. "I should be going," he says, quickly packing his books up and hurrying off.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

There are nearly thirty people at Christmas dinner, not including the staff. Dumbledore is twinkly and generous, sitting them all around one table, laughing and handing out crackers like a too-thin Father Christmas and cajoling everyone into eating too much.

Lupin looks especially ill, surrounded by his happy bright-eyed friends, though all of them pick at their food with much less interest than everyone else at the table. 

Snape is particularly impressed that Sirius somehow knew that Potter and company were staying at school this year. "Lupin looks dreadful," Snape says, after Lupin is forced to explain to someone that he has a cold, for the tenth time. With so few students around, Lupin's illness is so much more obvious.

"You didn't poison him, did you?" Snape asks quietly.

"I thought you did," Sirius says. 

Sirius' haul of presents was particularly unimpressive this year; his mother isn't happy that he didn't come home for Christmas.

Snape got a lot of books that he seems very pleased with, and it appears that Evans got something similar, as she's even brought a book to the table with her and she can't stop idly stroking it when she thinks no-one's looking. Potter has already boasted several times about the new Quidditch accessories he has that will help him beat Slytherin's arses even harder next year, and Lovegood's stupid Newsletter will benefit from a new printing system.

Lupin's clothes look new, though he doesn't look all that happy about it. Some part of Sirius' brain has catalogued every item of clothing Lupin owns, and placed them on some sort of chart in order of how much they make him want to strip Lupin naked, so he notices this.

 _He shouldn't be out of bed_ , Sirius thinks. _He should be resting before he changes_.

Lupin catches him staring and pulls at the collar of his new shirt, trying to hide more of his body. Sirius doesn't care, because in the morning he'll get to see Lupin all scratched up and nearly naked. 

 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius had kept Snape distracted by hinting that the Gryffindors couldn't possibly be up to anything on Christmas night, then subtly challenging him to make one of the most difficult potions from one of his new books. Sirius escaped from the dormitory rather later than he'd hoped to, under cover of darkness. 

He wakes on the shack floor, warmer than usual, to the sound of Lupin's voice. "Things are just, well, weird at the moment," Lupin is saying.

Even with his eyes mostly closed, Sirius can see that the sun has completely risen, the soft white glow of it shining off the snow and in through the window. There's also a sharper orange glare nearby, a fire set in the grate, which had never been lit on previous full moons.

"With Sarah?" Potter asks. _Sarah_ , Sirius thinks, _so it is her._

She's an annoying Gryffindor sixth year, serious and clever, with twisty curly hair and eyes that are always laughingly crinkled at the corners. She has freckles, just like Lupin. Now Sirius can picture their freckles mashing together and joining up as they kiss. Disgusting. 

"Yeah," Lupin says.

"Lily says, well, that Anna says that Sarah says you cheated on her," Potter admits cautiously, and he shifts about as if saying that makes him uncomfortable.

Sirius fakes an irritable change of sleeping position, to get a better idea of where everyone is.

Evans is still asleep, cat-form under a table in the corner of the room. Lovegood is nowhere to be seen; maybe he sleeps up in the dusty eaves, with his head under a wing. Potter and Lupin are both half-dressed and tangled around each other in a way that makes Sirius viciously and irrationally jealous.

Lupin is still sniggering at Potter's weird repetition of gossip. "Really," he says eventually. "But it is amazing how girls always know these things." 

"You did it?" Potter sounds incredulous, of course, because Gryffindors are far too honourable to betray a girlfriend or boyfriend.

"I don't know," Lupin says. "Does it count when someone grabs you and jams their tongue in your mouth before you can stop them?"

Potter laughs and Sirius hates that, hates Potter mocking him, especially when one of Potter's hands is stroking Lupin's naked stomach, and occasionally up over his chest and that scar he still has from Sirius biting him.

"Who," Potter says, half laughing and half shocked, "would do that?" 

"Professor McGonagall," Lupin says in a very solemn voice that cracks both of them up immediately, then through his giggles, manages to gasp out, "twice!" 

When the hideous guffawing is over, Potter shifts to sit up, his body blocking some heat and light from the fire. "You don't mind the dog hearing this?" he asks, still annoyingly suspicious. "We don't even know who he is."

"Oh, I know who he is," Lupin says. Sirius goes stiff, his mood changing just like that; Lupin's fingers curl into the thick skin at the scruff of his neck to hold him in place. "Blackie here just thinks I'm stupid," Lupin says conversationally, and ruffles Sirius' fur as if it didn't matter.

"And you didn't tell me?" Potter says, clearly offended.

"You didn't need to know," Lupin says, sounding tired now. "And besides, I have the situation under control." And he does, stroking over Sirius' coat in just the right places to make him go sleepy and boneless.

So what if Lupin knows. It's not as if he's throwing Sirius out.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

At nearly eleven pm, the other older Slytherins are far too sozzled on fizzy wine and Snape's special home-brewed spirits to care what Sirius is up to, so he sneaks off, adding a curly strand of Lupin's hair to a vial of Locator potion as he goes. It's not the most efficient method of finding someone, though it's useful to note that the potion can't find him when he's transformed, considering that there's not a chance that Snape didn't look for him on Christmas night. 

Sirius has to wander the school for a while until the dark colour of the potion starts to pale near the library; difficult because he's rather more tipsy than he'd planned to be. And it appears he's forgotten to put any shoes on, his feet icy cold on old stone corridors and wooden floorboards alike. 

The Locator potion is a very light grey now. The library, on New Year's Eve. Sirius tuts and heads through the door.

Lupin is sitting at Madam Pince's desk, calmly reading a book. "Though you were avoiding me, Rover," he says without even looking up, and Sirius thinks _great, it's going to be like that, is it_.

Sirius can't quite believe Lupin is sitting here alone instead of enjoying whatever terribleness Gryffindors are calling a party. "Potter still not speaking to you, I take it?"

Lupin does look up then, when Sirius walks over and places himself between Lupin and the desk, sitting down right there on the desk top in front of him. Lupin is wearing that shirt he got for Christmas, again. It's a little tight on him; presumably his mother isn't aware of how much he's filled out recently. The material pulls taut across his chest as he leans back into his chair, creating some distance between them.

"You should be pleased that I'm protecting you from him," Lupin says. "Imagine what he'd do."

He has a point. Potter's wrath can be great, when one of his nearest and dearest is threatened. Sirius likes that Lupin won't tell Potter his secrets, likes that he and Lupin have secrets together that not even Lupin's best friend knows.

"One of Snape's specials?" Lupin asks, nodding towards Sirius' used tube of locating potion. "Aren't you worried he'll find you on a full moon? Because I am."

Sirius takes out his hip flask, wanting to perpetuate this smooth, loopy-drunk mood he's in. "It doesn't work," he tells Lupin, "not when I'm transformed." 

"Okay," Lupin says cautiously.

"So you've nothing to worry about," Sirius says. He smiles at Lupin, almost smirking. Lupin knows Sirius is there every full moon, and he doesn't mind.

The alcohol is making Sirius feel a little crazy, as if anything could happen. He takes a hefty swig and offers it to Lupin, who takes it from him, his long fingers curling easily all the way around the flat bottle. The flask is glass with bronze trim, making it obvious as Lupin holds it up to the light that the liquid inside is brightly pink and weirdly medicinal looking.

"No thanks," Lupin says, and instead he opens one of Pince's drawers and takes out a crystal tumbler and a dusty bottle of whisky and pours himself a small glass.

"Who's Potter to complain?" Sirius asks, kicking at Lupin's chair legs. "Or you, for that matter. It's not as if I'm going to tell anyone." 

"Of course not, or we'd all end up in Azkaban." Lupin is watching him very blankly, but he's no longer trying to pay attention to the book he was reading, which is currently under Sirius' arse.

Sirius wonders what it would be like to crawl forward into Lupin's lap, to straddle Lupin's thighs and kiss his mouth and taste the whisky. "Oh, I didn't mean the werewolf thing," Sirius says. "I was just looking for someone to kiss on the stroke of midnight."

Lupin is not pleased. "I'm sure Snape or Pettigrew would oblige you." 

Sirius bristles. "I'm sure they would, but I'm not going to ask them."

"Can't let them know that the great Sirius Black wants to kiss boys. Don't worry, I'll keep your secret and you can keep mine." It looks like Lupin finds this amusing, for some reason.

"Bugger off," Sirius says.

Lupin says, "I just don't understand it. Is it some deviant sexual thing? Or do you want to _be_ a werewolf?"

Sirius' whole body seems to flush with blood, hearing Lupin say _werewolf_ , and probably because he said _sexual_ too. He starts to protest at that. "I don't— 

"Because you shouldn't. It's fucking awful." Lupin is staring at him really intensely, expression mostly blank, maybe slightly angry.

"I don't want to be a werewolf," Sirius tells him. 

He'd thought he did, at first, but realised he liked being a dog too much, liked being able to choose when and liked being self-aware enough to enjoy the experience. And he couldn't cope with only once a month.

Because he has nothing to lose now, he adds, "I just want to fuck you." Sirius isn't nervous anymore; he can look Lupin right in the face as he says it.

Lupin must have dealt with this by now, because he doesn't bat an eyelid. "But you didn't want to before you knew what I was, did you?" 

"I don't know." Sirius doesn't really want to dwell on that, the way he's always thought about, and treated, Lupin a little differently. That he's always been desperate for Lupin's attention, bad or good, and frustrated and enraged by his inability to get it.

Sirius lifts his chin defensively; somehow he feels like if he could win this stupid argument then Lupin might actually consider it, consider him. He kicks at Lupin's chair a bit more to try to rile him. "It's not about being a werewolf," he finally manages to say. "It's -- you know, the other thing."

"I'm no _fag_ ," Lupin says, "but I could think of at least four boys who would gladly take you up on that offer."

Sirius scowls, angry that Lupin could be that stupid. "That's a ridiculous thing to say. That isn't how it works."

"Well just kissing me and expecting me to just let you do it isn't how it works, either," Lupin snaps back.

"I wasn't," Sirius says, voice getting louder with anger. "I just did it because I wanted to."

He untangles the toes of his left foot from around the chair leg and places his foot flat on Lupin's thigh. Lupin slaps his ankle away, hard, and Sirius loses his balance, falling forward into Lupin. Sirius' hands naturally brace themselves on Lupin's shoulders and that's enough to tip them both.

There's a lurching second of uncertainty, and then Lupin's chair falls back and they both crash to the floor, taking the chair and the crystal whisky tumbler with them. Once they're on the floor, Lupin thrusts an arm upwards, heel of his hand catching easily against Sirius' jaw, before he pushes Sirius off him and pins him to the floor by straddling his hips. He restrains Sirius' arms effortlessly with one hand, holding both wrists on the floor above Sirius' head. 

Sirius freezes immediately, ceases to struggle. He wants this so much, Lupin lying on top of him; Lupin could do anything he wanted. 

Lupin just stares at him, looking horrified but also sort of fascinated. "You're really weird in the head, aren't you." It isn't a question.

Sirius has his eyes closed. He's moderately drunk, and he can feel the room spinning a little around him. He can feel his heart beating in every part of his body, and how the tip of Lupin's nose is nearly touching his. "You aren't here because you wanted to do schoolwork on New Year's Eve," Sirius says, "are you?" His voice sounds pathetic and hoarse. He opens his eyes to find that Lupin looks confused now, instead of angry. "You were here waiting for me." 

Lupin kisses him then, and Sirius just groans as he pushes eagerly into it. Sirius has kissed girls before, for all the good that did him, but this is different. Lupin kisses just like he bites and that's exactly how Sirius wanted him to be, and he greedily presses up into the soft anger of Lupin's mouth. He eases one of his hands out of Lupin's startled grip to hold his palm against the back of Lupin's head to thrust their lips harder together.

 "Fuck," Lupin says, his voice wet with saliva and Sirius' tongue.

"Please," Sirius says, because he is just that pathetic. He hooks one leg over Lupin's hip, pressing the flat sole of his foot to the back of Lupin's thigh. He loves the weight on him, the shifting of their bodies, the heavy pressure in the places where it matters. They kiss for minutes but it feels like forever when Sirius feels like this, ready to explode.

Sirius finally slides his other hand free and goes crazy with both palms and his fingernails, under Lupin's ridiculous tight shirt and grabbing all over the bare, slightly sticky skin of his back.

When Lupin tilts his head to set his teeth on the line of Sirius' throat, Sirius can't hold off any longer, digging his heel into the crease of Lupin's thigh and arse as he jams their hips together and comes. It's sharp and almost painful, and he moans loudly enough that Lupin pulls off his neck and swears again, balances his weight on both arms as he stares down at Sirius, who is just lying there, panting for breath.

Sirius rolls his hips, feeling the thick length of Lupin's erection rub along his hip. Fucking hell, he's never felt so good before. 

He shoves Lupin off, barely registering the startled look Lupin gives him, pushes him back and sits in Lupin's lap, and then he starts to unbutton him, going from throat all the way down to groin. Sirius thrusts the material aside and hunches down to follow his fingers with his teeth, down Lupin's bare chest panicking and hurried, breathing double-time, more to taste as much of Lupin's scent as he can than from need of oxygen, until he's finally got Lupin's cock between his lips. 

Lupin is loud, louder than Sirius. Sirius is on his knees now, Lupin spread out on his back, propped on his elbows. Sirius shoves an arm up, cups Lupin's jaw and lets him suck and chew on his fingers, feeling every groan vibrate all the way down his arm. 

Sirius has done this before, if only with three fingers in his mouth, a hand on his own prick and a very good imagination. This is nothing like that. Lupin's cock is thicker and smoother than fingers, and long enough that Sirius chokes a little when he sucks too far down, then does it again when he finds they both like it. He scrapes his teeth a little around the base, and uses his other hand to wrestle Lupin's trousers further down and knead at the heavy muscle of his thigh.

He'd known he wanted Lupin to fuck him, but now he's thinking that the opposite would be good too. He hopes Lupin might let him, sometime.

Lupin comes from Sirius doing a few hard little sucks over the head of his cock, fast and smooth, and the slow dull echo of the grandfather clock in the hallway chiming midnight muffles his moans and whimpers, though he sucks on Sirius' thumb so hard he nearly takes the nail off.

Lupin just lies there breathing heavily as he comes down, so Sirius takes advantage, licks his prick clean and then licks at all the sweaty corners, the crease of thigh and groin and into his belly button. He grabs Lupin by the hips and starts to kiss the scar his teeth made three moons ago. Still silent, Lupin reaches under Sirius to button his trousers back up – not a good sign, because Sirius was hoping to go again, every lungful of Lupin's skin making him harder. "No, no," he mumbles, still intent on that scar. He presses his erection against Lupin's leg to make his point, and Lupin huffs out a little laugh.

"And there was I, waiting for my midnight kiss," Regulus says from the doorway.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Once Lupin has said, "I'm just going to, er," made a short and frantic attempt to reorder his dishevelled appearance and button his shirt, and fled the scene -- _like he always seems to be doing_ , Sirius thinks -- Sirius levels the coldest glare he can muster at his brother. "What on earth did you think you were doing?" he asks sharply, suddenly sober. "You shouldn't be here. Why did you come back to school early?"

Regulus cringes away a little, and Sirius is surprised to notice that Regulus is actually embarrassed. 

"I thought there was something interesting going on," he says. "Something properly interesting," he quickly adds, "not—" 

"Well could you not have done it ten minutes later?" Sirius asks. "Or even two minutes." He closes his eyes, because he knows Regulus is laughing at him, on the inside, and that he knows perfectly well why Sirius is still sitting on the floor with his knees bent up towards his chest. "I hate you so much," Sirius says, sighing. "And Snape, who I'm sure put you up to this." 

Still clutching his stupid potion, Regulus eagerly takes the opportunity to change the subject. "I did think Lupin would have more sense than to—" He waves his hand vaguely at Sirius.

That makes Sirius smile, broadly. "Me, too. It's good to be wrong, sometimes."

"Yeah. I can't believe I wasted a Locating Potion just to find you kissing Remus Lupin," Regulus complains sulkily.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

By the fourth of January most of the school has arrived back, and Snape is getting really annoyed that Sirius is refusing to explain the impressive bruise he now has on his jaw. "So I got in a fight," Sirius says, after catching Snape staring at the bruise for the millionth time as they eat dinner, "obviously. Does it really matter to you that much who it was?"

Snape's forehead scrunches up really tightly. "You are up to something; conspiring with Gryffindors, and you won't even tell me anything about it. Yet, you told _Regulus_." 

"I'll tell my brother whatever I like," Sirius says, cross because he _loves_ Regulus. Regulus knowing one of his private, personal secrets has resulted in conspiratorial glances in the corridors, and silly smirking and giggles, like they're _friends_. Sirius has never managed to be friends with his brother before.

"You hate him," Snape says. 

He doesn't. How could he? Regulus really doesn't give a shit that Sirius is gay. "Regulus has nothing to do with it," Sirius says. "Maybe I'm just dating someone." 

"Of course you are," Snape says, with as much condescension as he can muster. He turns quickly in his seat and calls across to the Gryffindor table, "Hoy! Dominick!"

"Drop dead, Slytherin," Dominick says, barely batting an eyelid.

Snape turns back and smiles at Sirius. "Yeah, I'm convinced." 

"It's an act we put on," Sirius insists, while trying not to laugh. "To hide how crazy we are about each other." 

Another glance at the Gryffindor table and he notices his brother sitting with Lupin and Potter.

"Oh. Fun idea," Sirius says, pushes his chair back and heads to the Gryffindor table and sits down in front of Potter and Lupin. "Good evening," he says to them, as if this is a normal occurrence. Potter and Lupin stare at him.

Regulus tuts and continues to fill his plate. Potter squints at Sirius' bruise.

"Oh, this?" Sirius says. "Did Lupin not tell you?"

Lupin has turned a wonderful shade of angry pink. He looks all flushed and healthy anyway, because roughly two weeks post-moon is a good time of the month for him. Sirius knows these things, being a champion at effective stalking.

This is possibly not the best way to encourage a repeat performance of New Year's Eve's events, or not any of the good bits after the punching.

"You know," Sirius says quickly, "after I kissed his girlfriend."

"His girlfriend wouldn't kiss you," Potter says.

"That doesn't matter; she's not his girlfriend anymore," Sirius lies gleefully. He can't tell if Potter is actually falling for this.

"It also explains the beautiful love-bites," Regulus says through a mouthful of mash, sparing a finger to point at Sirius' neck.

Sirius nods at him in agreement. He can feel the weight of McGonagall's gaze as she suspiciously watches her House's table, especially now that Lupin is about half a second from jumping across it and killing Sirius. Despite that, Sirius lets a hand stray to his throat, because he adores the bruises there. He wants them to be there forever, keeps poking them to make them last longer. He strokes them in bed at night, other hand on his cock. 

"Lupin," Sirius says seriously, "your girlfriend is an animal." 

Lupin, staring at him with his mouth slightly open, looks like he's about to cry.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

"You aren't in the ten o'clock Astronomy lesson," Sirius says to Lupin, which earns him a very strange look – probably more to do with the fact that he's just climbed in through the window of the sixth year Gryffindor boys' dormitory than his actual words.

Lupin coughs weakly in reply. "I have a cold," he claims, sounding defensive.

Sirius shrugs. "That won't be a problem."

Lupin is lying on one of the beds clutching a book. He looks nervous, suspicious as he eyes Sirius, and definitely ill, pale and sickly because the moon is pulling at him again. Sirius' heart is going really fast in his chest; Lupin's sickness really shouldn't be getting him this excited.

"Look. This is all a really bad idea," Lupin says while Sirius calmly hides his broomstick under the bed nearest the window. "What with all the hate, and the pranking. The Quidditch match incident, and there was that thing with the explosions, and the near death-by-poisoning, and you spellotaped my friend to a wall, for some reason."

"Are you finished with thinking up excuses yet?" Sirius asks.

Lupin has been studiously ignoring him, ever since they had sex in the library, ever since Regulus caught them at it, ever since Sirius teased Lupin in front of his friends. Ever since Lupin _broke up with his girlfriend for Sirius_. Or because of Sirius, at least. 

"I have a cold," Lupin says, closing his eyes, "you'll catch it."

"We both know that's not true," Sirius says while taking his boots off. "Now, do you want me to suck you again, or not?"

When Lupin opens his eyes again they look glazed, whether from sickness or lust Sirius can't quite tell.

"I'm fine," Lupin says, though he looks anything but. Sirius climbs on to the bed next to him and kisses him, starting off gently. For all his appearance of limp sickliness Lupin still has strong fingers that pull Sirius in tighter, and firm lips.  _All the better for kissing you with_ , Sirius thinks giddily.

The inside of Lupin's mouth feels unnaturally hot. Sirius doesn't bother to control himself and quickly slips his hand down to cup Lupin's cock through his pyjamas; he's hard, and he sighs deeply as Sirius touches him.

"You, oh, what do you want?" Sirius needs to make Lupin _come_ , and he pushes Lupin's shirt up and yanks his pyjama trousers down enough to get a hand around his cock.

Lupin is so hard that it looks like it must hurt, and he makes a noise that sounds a bit like a sob when Sirius lies down alongside him and strokes his cock. His whole body seems to shiver against Sirius'.

"You should fuck me," Sirius says, face buried in Lupin's neck, because that's all he can think about now; how he wants to get up on his knees, sling a leg back over Lupin's hips and slide down onto his prick. "You should." 

"Oh," Lupin says, shocked, and comes just like that, all over the hem of his shirt and warm bare belly. Sirius hurries to lick him clean. Lupin's chest heaves under Sirius' tongue and his eyes are wild when Sirius glances up while sucking his own fingers clean.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asks as he wipes saliva off on the bedsheets and stretches up for a kiss.

"Yes," Lupin says, "yes," as the tips of his fingers reach up and touch the corners of Sirius' jaw. "Can I? Not now, not when I'm ill, but, can I?" 

 _What?_ Sirius thinks, before he realises that Lupin is _begging to fuck him_. He scrambles up to his knees to pull his shirt off, giving himself some time to think. Suddenly Lupin _wants him_ , instead of the desperate one-sided obsession Sirius has got used to.

"Yes," Sirius says, quickly unbuttoning his own trousers and kicking them off, too. "You should – take these off," he adds, tugging at Lupin's pyjama top. Lupin's trousers are still down around his thighs, his cock still impressively hard.

"No," Lupin says, though it doesn't truly sound like he means it. "Black, we shouldn't."

"Yes, we should." Sirius manhandles him up and takes the shirt off for him.

"But," Lupin says, but Sirius is already kissing him again. "I get," Lupin says. "I get a bit—" Sirius nuzzles at Lupin's lips, thinking only of Lupin's skin under his hands and the thrum of his own body.

"You can just lie back," Sirius says, rubbing his cock against Lupin's belly a little, "if you're not feeling up to it," then sniggers against Lupin's mouth at his own double-entendre.

"I can get a bit carried away," Lupin blurts out. "Just, the way I am at the moment."

Sirius has to pause, to get a hold of himself. "Oh god," he mumbles, feeling dizzy, "oh god, _please_." Lupin isn't trembling with _weakness_.

"No, I—" Lupin is trying to pull away, even while Sirius is lying on top of him and saying, "Please, please." 

Sirius presses their bodies together again, kissing him deeply, seriously, and eventually Lupin just snaps. He grabs Sirius by the biceps, in the same way that once made him swoon against the greenhouse wall, throws him to one side and climbs on top. Sirius lies back and lets Lupin bite down his chest. Lupin's eyes are very bright when he looks up and his hands are getting rough and clumsy in a way that Sirius loves.

"You should," Sirius says, almost gasping, "probably do it quickly."

"I don't know how," Lupin says, breathlessly, his lips jammed against Sirius' ear, hands pulling at the waist of his underwear.

Sirius doesn't want to ask Lupin if he did this with Sarah. Well, not precisely _this_ , obviously. Sirius pushes Lupin back far enough that he can reach for the tiny bottle of lubricant he'd left in the pocket of his trousers. Sirius quickly shows him how to push in with his fingers. 

Lupin isn't particularly gentle at this either, though Sirius can see him trying hard to concentrate, but it's not like Sirius hasn't practiced this on himself a lot. Lupin watches the movement of his own fingers and licks his lips a lot. 

"Can I?" Lupin whispers. Now his fingers are thrusting easily in and out of Sirius' body; two fingers, in smooth, fast strokes.

"Please," Sirius says. Lupin's lips have made their way back up to Sirius', and they pause there in a strangely intimate moment. "Do it," Sirius says, to hurry that moment away.

It takes a few minutes to get the position of their bodies right, but the minute he's inside, Lupin loses his previous lack of coordination and everything just works, his hips sliding smoothly, the angle perfect. Lupin's fingernails are sharp where they cut into Sirius' thighs and Sirius hopes they make him bleed. 

Sirius comes after only a few thrusts, with Lupin curled over him, cheeks flushed and a small concentrated frown between his eyebrows. Lupin takes about a minute longer to finish, and he's rough with it, but Sirius loves it; the heat of their bodies and the slow deep ache inside him, and never wants to stop. Lupin is so beautiful as he comes. He gasps, then presses his nose to Sirius' cheek and just breathes.

They lie there afterwards, after disconnecting their bodies, side by side, just breathing. Lupin's breaths have slowed enough that Sirius thinks he might be asleep, so he's surprised when Lupin blurts out, "So that's what you wanted."

"Fuck. Yes," Sirius says. He gathers some energy and rolls to the side, closer, breathing in the smell of Lupin's body. Lupin's skin still feels too hot, but he's stopped trembling. "You're amazing," Sirius whispers, his face pressed into Lupin's throat. Right now, he feels like a complete traitor to all his friends and to the house of Slytherin. Sod them. "You liked it?" Sirius asks quickly. 

Lupin nods gently, his chin bumping the top of Sirius' head. "Yeah."

Sirius can't stop his smile, and he falls asleep curled against Lupin, hand stroking Lupin's belly.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius wakes up when it's still dark and the dormitory is completely silent, which is a relief. He shouldn't have fallen asleep at all. He props himself up slightly against the pillows, so he can watch Lupin sleeping for a few minutes.

The second time he wakes up there's two white socks with eyes drawn on them in red ink peering around the edge of Lupin's bed curtains. They're having a conversation with each other, in Punch-and-Judy voices. 

"--And it's not like Remus to sleep late," Sock Number One says, and Sock Number Two nods and scrunches up its little socky face.

Lupin finally starts to wake up, so Sirius thinks he's probably been caught, whatever he does, so he says, "You know, this is oddly entertaining."

Lupin makes a mumbly and confused early morning noise and tries to shrug off Sirius' hand, which is stroking his hair. 

"What?" Lovegood says, abandoning the socks he's wearing over his hands and poking his head through the curtains. 

"Oh shut up," Sirius says.

"Well, this is quite strange," Lovegood says, sounding unsure. His eyes are flickering from Sirius, to Lupin, and then back again.

Sirius settles even closer to Lupin, pressing the side of his face to Lupin's hair. "This," he says, muffled by curls, "is where you say 'this isn't what it looks like'."

Finally finding his voice, Lupin snaps; "Are you wearing any clothes? No? Well there's not much point in my saying it then."

Lupin can't take his eyes off Lovegood. Sirius can see why; the frozen look on Lovegood's face is quite horrible.

"It's eight-thirty," Lovegood says eventually, "you really should get up," and then just wanders off. It takes a lot to really ruffle Lovegood, apparently.

"Shit, really?" Sirius asks. He starts to get out of bed, reluctant, though he does enjoy Lupin's yelp of shock when he sees that Sirius is still completely naked. "So I'll see you tonight, then?" Sirius whispers as he rummages around for his clothes.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

What with a rushed breakfast and lessons and everything, Snape doesn't manage to catch up with Sirius until lunchtime.

"You weren't in Astronomy," Snape comments mildly as they sit down at the Slytherin table.

"I had other things to do," Sirius says, then begins to plate himself some food while he waits for the inevitable.

"And you didn't sleep in your bed again," Snape says when he sees he won't be getting any proper answers.

"So?" Sirius shoves a potato in his mouth, followed by a slice of bread. He's so _hungry_.

"So it's becoming quite a frequent habit, is what I'm saying," Snape says, his voice rising in anger.

Sirius doesn't want to have this conversation right now. He's happy, insanely so. His best friend should not be spoiling it. "Sometimes I sleep in someone else's bed. I don't see that it's any of your business." 

Sirius remembers the burning heat of Lupin's skin, his long fingers, and the hard press of his hipbones. But he doesn't think Snape will want to know about it.

"Of course it is, now that you're cavorting with Gryffindors." Snape throws his knife and fork down. "Suddenly you're best friends with them! Tell me Potter doesn't suck your cock for you in return for more material favours from you."

"Oh don't be so vulgar. There isn't enough money in the world. Now, shut up and be pleased for me." Sirius takes a bite of his mince and then more potatoes 

"Hello, Black," Lovegood says suddenly, walking past the Slytherin table, then frowns as if trying to remember something important. Snape glares at Sirius, while Lovegood hurries off looking thoughtful.

"You disgust me," Snape says.

Sirius shrugs, then chews and swallows. "He's just so strong and masculine. I can't help it."

 _I_ _want to die, kill_ _me now_ , the expression on Snape's face says. Sirius thinks, _he should be on the stage_  

"Oh, and don't expect me back tonight, either," Sirius says with a happy smile.

Snape huffs out a long breath and stands up, leaving his dinner half eaten.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius is nervous. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Why not, now that Lupin knew everything, just meet them in the shack before the moon was up? Potter and the rest of them would just have to get used to it. 

Except now Sirius is in the passageway under the school grounds he can't quite work up the courage to go up into the shack.

 Potter will probably punch him in the face; he's expecting that and it doesn't worry him too much. But what if Lupin doesn't want him there? He'd been weird about things this morning, and Sirius isn't sure that everything is fine between them. Sirius just needs to talk things through with him, have a conversation that doesn't end in a fight or hexes or --

He turns, hearing a sudden noise behind him in the dark. Potter, Lovegood and Evans are all in there with Lupin already; what if Madame Pomfrey is back for some reason? He holds back on lighting his wand and leans into the wall, listening to the footsteps coming closer. Maybe she won't see him, or he could use a memory charm.

All he can think is that Lupin's going to kill him, because this will ruin everything, and then someone walks into him. The person yells out, and for a second Sirius thinks it's Regulus, following him again, until he realises.

"Severus," Sirius says on a long, shaky breath out.

"Sirius," Snape says, his voice carefully mocking. "Did the Gryffindors show you where this passageway was?"

"Severus, you have to get out of here." Sirius has no time for excuses as the panic in his belly ratchets up another many notches.

He's holding Snape by the shoulders, already starting to push him back towards the willow entrance. Snape struggles, the tension in his limbs clearly demonstrating his anger at Sirius. 

"If you're up to something with Gryffindors, I don't see why I can't be here. Unless it's an orgy, of course." Even in the pitch darkness Sirius can picture the likely twist of Snape's facial expression as he says this, and that fondness he has for his friend makes him even more terrified.

"No!" he says, giving Snape's body a hard shake. "This is _dangerous_. Come on."

They're actually fighting now. Snape is very bony and wriggly, and Sirius, completely terrified, is barely getting anywhere when a light suddenly flashes in their eyes and a voice shouts, "Hey! Who's there?"

"Potter." Sirius gasps in relief. "Help me."

"Black?" Potter says in disbelief. "What are you doing here? Get out! Now!" Potter hurries towards them, the beam from his wand shining in Snape's eyeballs.

"I'm trying," Sirius says.

"And Snape. What the _fuck_ are the two of you doing here?" Potter's voice has gone up about an octave.

He grabs Snape by the arm and helps Sirius drag him even as he kicks and yells; "I want to know what's going on!"

Potter ignores Snape's question. "Shit, Black, how did you get in?" he says instead, casting a frightened glance back towards the shack end of the tunnel. They're nearly to the willow, Snape starting to comply.

"Oh, you know," Sirius says, offhand, "Lovegood tried to kill me."

"What?" Potter says, stopping suddenly. "He, what?"

In the confusion, Snape starts to pull away. "Severus, do you want to _die_?" Sirius yells, and that's when the door to the shack bangs open. 

Sirius has to concentrate just to stop the instinctive urge to transform.

"Run!" Potter yells, valiantly not transforming himself. 

"What the fuck is that?" Snape shouts, sounding more shocked than he is scared, as the wolf pauses at the end of the tunnel. Snape almost never swears. Sirius can see the shine of saliva on teeth, and he can tell the wolf is just about to attack.

Potter helps Sirius pull Snape the last few feet, and then they're out and running wildly across the school grounds; too fast, and Sirius' chest burns from lack of oxygen. Snape lags behind, slowing himself down by constantly whipping his head around to see if the werewolf is following them.

Sirius keeps trying to grab Snape's arm, but it's Potter who gets a hold on him, yanking him up the front steps and then they're all in the entrance hall, gasping for breath.

Sirius seriously wonders if he's going to faint: he's never been that scared in his entire life. It wasn't even fear for himself, just for Snape, and, presumably, Lupin. His heart is going to burst, and not in any good way.

When he finally brings himself to look up, Potter is white-cheeked and is visibly shaking, but Snape is completely calm as he stretches his arm out, wand pointing right at Sirius' face as he says, coldly, "Did you just try to murder me?"

"What?" Sirius says. This fight with Severus still feels like the least of his worries right now. "No! What? No, you --" He doesn't have enough breath for this. "You weren't supposed to _follow me_."

"It was just coincidence, then. All that teasing: it's none of your business, don't expect me back tonight, and that sort of thing. Even though you know I have a potion that can find you _anywhere_." Snape sneers at him, and Sirius has never been on this end of that cold look of disgust before.

"But it can't –" Sirius starts to say, and then realises. 

Sirius closes his eyes, despite Snape's wand pointing right at his forehead, momentarily overcome with thoughts of his own stupidity. "Okay, fine, I made a bit of a mistake. But --" Snape's face is dark with anger. Sirius has never seen him quite like this before.

Sounding as if he's speaking through clenched teeth, Snape says, "You knew I could -- and would -- follow you, and still." He stops speaking rather abruptly, and Sirius knows his friend well enough to block the first wordless hex.

"Shit," Sirius spits.

Snape steps forward. He's no slouch at duelling and he hits Sirius with hex after hex, while all Sirius can do is frantically attempt to defend himself. He's unable to take his eyes off the serious expression on his best friend's face, the one that tells him in no uncertain terms that Snape really believes Sirius was trying to kill him.

With hindsight, maybe Sirius should just have told him he was shagging Lupin.

"Werewolf!" Snape gasps as he hits Sirius with a hex that makes him so dizzy he falls over.

"Shut _up_!" Potter yells. Potter, Sirius thinks, turning his head from where the stone floor is pressing into his face, shaky fingers clinging on as he tries not to throw up. He'd forgotten Potter was even there.

Potter is duelling with Snape now, while Sirius tries to drag himself to his feet. He tightens his grip on his wand and manages to shoot something back at Snape. That and whatever Potter was attacking him with combine to finally fell him.

Snape hits the floor hard, and when Sirius has dragged himself to his feet, his best friend is thankfully out cold.

"Fuck," he says in relief, only to notice, as he turns, that Potter has merely swung his wand to point into Sirius' face.

"What," Potter says, "did the pair of you think you were doing?"

"Stop!" They both turn to see Dumbledore standing at the top of the staircase. Potter is no sneaky Slytherin, so he doesn't use the time to hex Sirius while Sirius isn't paying attention.

"Oh fuck," Sirius says quietly, only to find that opening his mouth this time causes his stomach to lose the battle with vertigo and he promptly throws up on the floor.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Sirius wakes up in the hospital wing, sunlight streaming through the window. It hurts his eyes, so he closes them again. He whines and waves a hand around until someone gives him something to throw up into.

"Thanks," he says once he's done and he's handed a glass of water.

"Don't mention it," says Potter dryly. "Now," Potter pulls up a chair and sits, crossing his arms, "Dumbledore will be here soon, and I need to know what to tell him."

Sirius groans and flops back onto his pillows. On the bed to his right Snape is sleeping soundly, curled up into the blankets. There's no sign of Lupin. Pomfrey's probably put him in a private room, given the circumstances.

"Is he okay?" Sirius asks. The appearance of some human prey can't have made Lupin's night any easier than usual. 

"Same as you, probably," Potter says, assuming Sirius is asking about Snape. Potter's not looking too healthy himself, like he's been up all night worrying instead of sleeping. "Why do you care? I don't think you're best friends anymore."

Sirius sighs. He can't quite work up the nerve to ask directly after Lupin, so he says, "What did you tell Dumbledore?"

Potter sits down on the end of Sirius' bed. "I was in the shack wishing Lupin luck, and as I left I found you two in the tunnel and it took me too long to get rid of you."

It sounds very reasonable to Sirius. "Can't we stick with that, then?"

Potter seems completely flummoxed by this. "Well, but... why were you there? How did you know? And why were you fighting?"

Sirius had always hoped finding out Gryffindor secrets would be more thrilling than this, that Potter would look all angry and defeated, instead of bone-weary and resigned.

Sirius says, "Dumbledore doesn't need to know --"

"You said that Nigel tried to kill you," Potter says, interrupting.

 _Oh_. Sirius had forgotten about that. "Yes, but that was ages ago. I don't really mind that anymore." He really doesn't. "How did you think I found out about the willow? He told me."

"I can't believe you'd stoop this low," Snape says, suddenly awake, then "Ulp --"

Potter hurries over with another basin, and Sirius watches queasily as Snape vomits up his watery stomach-contents.

"It's not that I'm sleeping with Lovegood," Sirius says pointedly, once Snape's finished. "Really. I will swear to it."

"I'm sorry, why the fuck would you be sleeping with Nigel?" Potter says irritably. "No Gryffindor would stoop so low."

"Oh, well aren't you sweet, Potter," Sirius says, thinking, _and wrong_.

"Then what was all that about Dominick?" Snape starts to ask smugly. Sirius yells over the top of him, "I was _bluffing_! Okay, fine, you win; I should have told you what was really going on. But I just didn't, at the time, but I should have. Are you happy now?"

"Not particularly," Snape says, indicating his vomit-bowl. "I'm drunk without the good bits, there's a _werewolf_ running loose around the school grounds --" Potter glances uneasily towards the door, as if he thinks Lupin will hear this through the walls. "-- and I still don't know why you're conspiring with the enemy," Snape finishes angrily.

This bout of screaming finally brings Madame Pomfrey running in, along with an almost amused-looking Lily Evans.

Sirius lifts a hand to point. "I never touched Evans," he says firmly.

"That's good to know, Black," Evans says.

Presumably she's been up all night with Lupin and Lovegood, but somehow her robes are cleanly pressed and she looks perfectly well rested.

"It's quite a relief to me, too," Sirius says sourly.

Madame Pomfrey claps her hands together. "I think it's time that everyone who isn't being sick or... sleeping to get to their lessons."

" _Werewolf_ ," Snape says venomously, glaring right at Evans.

Everyone in the room shifts uncomfortably. 

Sirius catches Potter's eye, trying to convey the message, _I'll_ _talk to him_. Potter nods, his expression softening for a second before it twists again to glare at Sirius in horror. _No_ _way_ he mouths to Sirius.

Sirius really wants to smirk at him, but now doesn't feel like the right time; he's too worried about Lupin's injuries and that Lupin's going to hate him, and what they're all going to do with Severus. "It should have been obvious," Sirius says to Potter, "if you had a brain."

 "Out!" Madame Pomfrey repeats.

"I didn't get to have any breakfast," Potter whines as he's shuffled out of the room.

"You can have mine!" Snape yells, waving his bowl.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Somehow, Sirius must have fallen asleep while Madame Pomfrey was examining Snape.

When he wakes up Snape says nastily; "Glad you could join me."

"Are we friends, here?" Sirius says quickly.

"For fuck's sake, do you think we'll just kiss and make up?" Snape has a large bruise on his forehead and is still holding a sick bowl.

"I think," Sirius says, "that you're my best friend, and if that's true you'll shut your mouth about werewolves and whatever else there is."

"Because you love him?" Snape asks.

He's taken the quiet time to think some things through and finally work it out, which isn't good, really, because there are some things Sirius doesn't want him to work out. 

"Lupin's such a sickly thing," Snape says thoughtfully, "the sort of child you should take out and drown in a bucket shortly after birth."

Sirius finds that comment strangely comforting. "Oh, I knew you'd mock me about this."

"I mock you anyway; I don't see what you were so worried about." Snape raises an eyebrow at him as he says this, and everything feels almost normal. "What I can't work out," he continues, "is why you and Potter thought you were safe hanging around with a werewolf on the night of the full moon."

"If I tell you everything," Sirius says, "will you keep your mouth shut then?"

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

The third time Sirius wakes up he feels fine, apart from being starving hungry, Snape is gone and instead of Potter sitting next to his bed, he has Dumbledore.

"I need to know why you were there," Dumbledore says. "It's not what you think," Sirius says.

"That's good," Dumbledore says, "because I also need you know that I'm perfectly aware of Mr Lupin's condition, and that I personally invited him to attend Hogwarts."

Sirius wonders how someone can look like such a nice, harmless old man, and so terrifyingly serious at the same time. He's more used to being calmly disciplined by his formidable headmaster, twenty points from Slytherin and interminable detentions scrubbing things for Mr Filch. He often forgets that his headmaster is an amazing man and something of a hero.

"It's really not what you think," Sirius says, hearing his voice starting to sound whiny. "We weren't trying to cause trouble; well, I wasn't trying to cause trouble, at least."

"You were at the Shrieking Shack on the night of the full moon," Dumbledore says, to prod him along.

"Lupin told me," Sirius blurts out. "We're friends, though he probably hates me now, and I went to say good luck, and such, and Severus followed me, because he thought I was up to something. Which I wasn't," Sirius adds quickly. "But Severus had no idea what was going on at all. I never told him, you see, so he was angry with me, and that made him think I was too friendly with the Gryffindors and we were trying to hurt him."

"I see." Dumbledore's expression has softened slightly, though his tone of voice is still highly sceptical. Sirius can't think he's ever given his headmaster reason to believe anything he says. "Can I ask how you and Mr Lupin became friends? He was placing a lot of trust in you."

That hurts, because Lupin is so wary of his secret being discovered, and he _had_ trusted Sirius; he'd practically said so, that night in the library, in a way, and the night before last, when he'd let Sirius sleep in his bed.

Sirius has no pre-prepared answer for this question, so he falls back on the truth instead.

"I fancied him," he tells Dumbledore, "since, er, fifth year? The end of the year, when we all had that awful fight, he was very, erm --" Sirius stops himself quickly, before he can say something really embarrassing. "But, yeah, so I hung around until I eventually managed to talk him into going out with me. And he had to tell me, because I noticed, when he was missing every month."

Professor Dumbledore can't quite hide his surprise. "I'll need to verify this with Mr Lupin."

Sirius nods eagerly; he was worried he'd have to give Dumbledore more embarrassing details to be believed. Or worse; the illegal stuff. "Of course. Um, you couldn't put in a good word for me, while you're at it, could you? How I didn't mean for Snape to come along, and it was a mistake and I'm sorry?"

"I think that you should tell him that yourself. Perhaps when he's feeling better?" Dumbledore stands, expression indecipherable again.

Sirius nods; resigned now, because Lupin is going to _kill him_.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

No-one ever touches Sirius' hair; not since he was little and his mum still had to brush it for him -- or get the House Elves to brush it for him, because he wouldn't bother to do it himself. He and Snape tend to style theirs the same way, growing it long and combing it back; they never discuss it, but Sirius likes how it makes them look similar. A few nights ago Lupin had shoved his fingers right into Sirius' hair, deep so he could pull him in and kiss him harder. 

This morning it's Potter who corners Sirius just as he's leaving the hall after breakfast, grabs the tail end of Sirius' hair and drags him off down the corridor. Snape just glowers wordlessly at him and makes no attempt to help.

"Potter," Sirius says, though he's not really struggling all that much, "you can't just--"

"Yes I can," Potter says. "And you'll shut up, if you know what's good for you."

They round a corner to find Evans waiting for them. She tuts. "James, this isn't what I meant," she says, but she sounds more amused than annoyed. Evans joins them, as Potter continues to pull Sirius behind him.

They walk past, of all people, Professor McGonagall, while Sirius is being led along by his hair. Sirius can see the puzzled frown on her face, out of the corner of his eye. "We'll bring him back in one piece," Evans promises. McGonagall just nods and carries on.  _Bloody teachers and their bloody favourites_ , Sirius thinks.

"You can give me detention later," Potter calls out to her, "if you find he's missing any limbs." 

Potter shoves Sirius into a random cupboard, full of books, and wraps his fingers into the collar of Sirius' robes.

"James," Evans says again, and Potter sighs, letting go and reluctantly stepping back.

"You and me," Potter says, "you and us, we hate each other, right?"

That's an easy one. "Yes," Sirius says.

Potter continues, "And this is all just stupid, this--" 

"Er," Sirius says, interrupting, "we're talking about the whole black dog thing, right?" 

Potter ignores that. "Clearly gone crazy," he says. "Right now. But that'll pass, and we can carry on hating each other in a normal way. Get it?"

Sirius really doesn't. "You surely aren't suggesting some sort of truce."

"No!" Potter yells, before adding more quietly, "god, no. Just --"

Evans jumps in. "He's trying to say, you make any more mistakes and we will be hexing lumps off you. Big lumps. Important lumps. _Significant_ lumps that you will _miss_ when--"

"Okay," Sirius says quickly.

"What?" Potter says. 

"I said, okay." Sirius smiles. This is actually supposed to be some sort of odd, very Gryffindor way of giving him and Lupin their blessing. "Does that mean I can go visit him in the Hospital Wing now?"

"No," Potter says, but Evans nods. "Come on."

She takes Sirius' arm and leads him out of the cupboard. McGonagall is standing outside, and for a crazy second Sirius wonders if she knows what's going on, but she just frowns at them, even while Evans gives her a beaming smile. Sirius uses his free hand to smooth his hair back into place. 

Despite the fact that Evans is touching him, her hand resting in the crook of his elbow, Sirius is so happy he practically floats along the corridor. Lupin must be close enough to forgiving him, if he told his friends everything. 

When they get to the Hospital Wing Lovegood is there too. 

"Oh, you again," Lovegood says, as if he can't work out why he's been seeing Sirius around so much recently. 

Lupin is sitting up in bed, lots of colour in his cheeks, hair all matted from too much lying down. 

Sirius' stomach and chest feel tight all of a sudden. Lupin still makes him nervous, butterflies and god knows what other creatures dancing around inside his stomach. 

The room is painfully silent. Potter, Evans and Lovegood are all waiting to see what Sirius will say; what he'll do. 

Sirius says, "So it was mostly my fault that Snape followed me."

"Because you're an idiot," Lupin says.

He hasn't taken his eyes off Lupin, but Sirius can still feel Lupin's idiot friends smirking. Sirius wishes they'd all just fuck off. "Yes," he says.

"Ready to apologise yet?" Lupin asks, smiling.

It breaks the tension and, ignoring the others, Sirius walks forward and sits on the bed, right in front of Lupin. "Give me a month, maybe," but Lupin looks so tired, so ill and so pretty. "I'm sorry," Sirius says, before he even knows he's going to.

"What are you sorry for this time?" Lupin asks. 

Sirius thinks it through carefully. "I'm sorry that Snape followed me, and that he knows everything, now."

"Snape knows everything?" Potter yells, but Lupin is still watching Sirius, still has that soft, slight smile on his face, so to Sirius there's no-one else in the room. 

"It'll be fine," Sirius says to Lupin. "He'll keep quiet about it, for me."

Lupin reaches a hand out, lets his fingertips touch the point of Sirius' chin for a second, then slides his fingers up, to cup Sirius' jaw. Lupin leans forward, pulls him in and kisses him. Dizzy and so pleased, Sirius kisses back eagerly, letting his hands grab Lupin's pyjama shirt. He can feel the heat of Lupin's skin through the thin material, each heavy beat of his heart. Lupin slides his tongue into Sirius' mouth, and Sirius presses the kiss deeper, hoping it'll scare everyone else out of the room.

Lupin's palm against his chest pushes him back. "Okay, that's enough." He smiles. "You're forgiven."

Sirius can't take his eyes off Lupin's lips, but before he can lean back in James' hand has fastened around his upper arm to haul him out of the room.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

A quiet cough in the doorway of the room startles both of them, and when Sirius looks up it's Lupin, appearing from behind a shimmering cloak.

Severus holds a brief staring competition with Lupin, before sighing and packing up his books and scrolls to finish his essay elsewhere. On his way out of the room he pauses next to Lupin to hiss, "My bedsheets are woven with silver." 

All Sirius wants is to pull Lupin down onto his bed, touch him all over, then spend the next week smelling him on his sheets and refusing to let the house elves do his laundry, but Lupin stays hovering at the other side of the room. He's pursing his lips together in a way that means discomfort and definitely not kissing. 

"I'm sorry," is what Lupin says eventually, and that sounds like very bad news to Sirius. Usually he's the one apologising. "When you," Lupin pauses, chews the inside of his cheek a bit, something he never usually does, because if he did Sirius would know. Sirius is just staring at the small twitches of Lupin's jaw. "When you said you -- you liked me, I was scared, and I wasn't very nice --" 

"It's fine," Sirius says. "I was pushy and annoying, and you thought I just wanted sex. It still worked out all right. Can I kiss you?" 

"I had a proper apology all planned out," Lupin says, actually sounding rather offended, while Sirius pulls him down to the bed on top of him, sloppily kissing up at his ear and throat. 

Sirius really doesn't care about apologies right now. 

"Sirius, I was really horrible to you," Lupin says, half trying to get up again, while Sirius is shocked by how it feels to hear Lupin call him by his first name.

He's not quite ready to do that himself. "You should fuck me again," he says, "to make up for it." 

Lupin lowers him to the pillows and fits their lips together. One of his hands is stroking Sirius' hair, going back again and again. They're kissing deeper and slower this time, Lupin's moans gentler, softer. "Okay," Lupin says, "okay. Like this though," he adds, their noses brushing at the tip.

Sirius closes his eyes and takes a long breath in.

Doing things the calmer, gentler way is no better or worse, really. It's more embarrassing, because Sirius comes while Lupin is still fingering him open, neither of them even touching his cock. "Sorry," he mumbles, still gasping, but it doesn't matter, as Lupin looks incredibly pleased with himself.

"Shush," he says, soothing, his slim fingers working away inside him. He can't seem to stop licking his lips and eventually leans down to lick the come off Sirius' belly.

When Lupin finally pushes his cock inside him, Sirius can't help but say, "You shouldn't do this bit _too_ slowly." Sirius feels a bit bad about it though. Lupin looks rather overwhelmed, when he's finally fully inside, Sirius' knees over his shoulders, ankles crossed. It's more intense than last time, with Lupin fucking him slower, their eyes on each other's faces.

"Kiss me," Sirius whispers, noses already touching.

Lupin sobs and says, "Oh god," and he latches their lips together, hands tightening on Sirius' thighs. "Sorry," Lupin says, after two short thrusts. He drags his lips away, still shuddering, and eases himself out of Sirius' body. 

"Sorry," Lupin whispers again, once Sirius has them cuddled up naked under his blankets. Sirius gets the impression that Lupin always thinks they're bad at sex together -- because it's fast, clumsy, desperate -- yet Sirius has loved every single moment.

"We'll practice that lots," he tells Lupin firmly. "And we'll practice being friends, and practice not letting our friends kill each other."

Lupin's sleepy brown eyes manage to convey a huge amount of scepticism. "What do you and I have in common," he says, "apart from this?"

They've had classes together for years. In a way, they know each other, at least a bit. Sirius can remember being twelve and climbing up the banisters in the entrance hall and dangling precariously from the first floor railing just because Lupin wouldn't look at him. "Did you never at all --" 

Lupin sighs. His thumb is stroking across Sirius' collar bone in long sweeps which softens his words. "I thought you were very handsome and very clever," he says. "And I thought because I liked girls that I mustn't like boys and so I didn't have to worry about it."

It's not the worst answer. "You know it's not just about sex, or shape shifting, yeah?"

"I know." Lupin kisses his cheek, pulls him close. "I'm going to be so nice to you now," he says. "I promise."

Sirius thinks about promising to stop stalking Lupin, but he isn't quite ready for that either. "We'll practice," he says. "Remus."

 

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// 

 

The next morning Sirius is in an almost completely good mood. He's already gone through two bowls of porridge and is making great headway with scrambled eggs piled on toast when Snape sits down opposite him and says, "Okay, yes. But you have to keep it secret and I get to surprise them."

Sirius thinks about this. "Only if you promise not to bite anyone."

"Who says I'll have teeth to bite with?" Snape says, but Sirius knows he's thinking about fangs, and possibly poison. 

"Yeah," Sirius says. "Maybe you'll be a goldfish. God, I hope Evans doesn't follow through on that promise to hex off my knob."

Snape smiles. "I know it would be a small price to pay for my friendship."


End file.
